


Ad Astra Per Aspera

by Rocky_T



Series: Bootstrap [2]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Military Training, Origin Story, Star Trek: The Next Generation References, Starfleet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:16:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27213307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocky_T/pseuds/Rocky_T
Summary: Story begins in 2342 when Tighe has just turned 16 and begins training as an enlisted crewman in Starfleet.
Relationships: Justin Tighe/Other(s)
Series: Bootstrap [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677664
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the Star Trek (pre-VOY) universe. Years 2342 - 2345.
> 
> “Ad Astra Per Aspera” means “from the mud to the stars.” This is the second in the “Bootstrap” series tracing the backstory of Justin Tighe, Janeway's first fiancé. The history of that relationship is covered in my "Lieutenant" series; look for these two series to eventually intersect. There is also a planned convergence with the “Second Chances” series.
> 
> Many thanks to Seema for her usual excellent beta.

The alarm klaxon went off at oh five hundred hours like it did every morning. One month into basic training, Tighe and the other recruits were used to the drill by now. They immediately leaped out of bed, shoved their feet into their boots, and still wearing the T-shirts and shorts they’d slept in, ran outside the barracks to stand in formation. They had exactly 7 minutes to do so from the moment the alarm went off. 

One of the recruits, Alvy, came out two minutes late and was promptly chewed out by the drill instructor. “This isn’t the first time you’ve been late,” snapped Cassein, holding up his chrono to emphasize his point. “As a result, the entire squad will be punished.” 

This announcement was met by general groaning. “All 12 of us? That’s not fair,” said Rodriguez. “Why should we have to suffer just because of one man?”

“Do you want me to add another 30 minutes?” asked Cassein, his demeanor suggesting he’d like nothing better.

The squad quieted down at that, and they embarked on the punitive 30 minutes of calisthenics, including pushups, planks, and running short drills back and forth across the quad. They were then given 15 minutes for morning ablutions, at the end of which they were required to reassemble in formation, this time in their field uniforms. 

“Why can’t they give us more time?” Alvy obviously felt compelled to complain some more while they were getting dressed. He sat on the edge of his cot holding his shirt but made no move to put it on. “There’s so much wasted time and standing around anyway throughout the day.”

“Too bad you can’t run as fast as you run your mouth,” Dawson said as he finished buckling his belt and prepared to head outside. 

Alvy, however, refused to be silenced. “You talkin’ to me, Dawg?”

Dawson exhaled loudly. “That ain’t my name. I’ve told you that before. Got a problem with your hearing?” He left without waiting for an answer.

“Jesus, Alvy, will you get moving already?” said Rodriguez. “You want to get us all punished again? 

Ignoring Rodriguez, Alvy finally stood up and pulled on his shirt, then hurried to catch up to Dawson who was already standing at attention. “As I’ve told you before, it’s a play on your first name, Sirius,” Alvy explained. “I’m trying to inject a little humor here.”

“Shut up, Alvy,” Tighe hissed from the corner of his mouth. “No talking allowed in formation.”

Alvy gave him a superior look. “Sure thing, Tiny.” 

Tighe rolled his eyes at the ludicrous nickname; at six and a half feet tall, he towered over Alvy as well as every other member of the squad. He refrained from answering, however, as Cassein began his inspection.

The drill instructor made his way slowly down the line. “Tighe, very good. All right, Lewis. Nice improvement, Rodriguez. Edwards, those boots could use a bit more polish. Stand up straighter, Alvy, you’re supposed to be at attention.” In that vein, Cassein continued his inspection and more than one recruit breathed a sigh of relief that he found no infractions worthy of punishment. After regarding them in silence for an additional moment or two, Cassein said, “Recruits, head to the Mess for breakfast.” He raised his voice. “Walk, don’t run! You’ve got half an hour.”

“That Alvy sure gets on my nerves,” Dawson muttered to Tighe as they stood in line at the replicator banks. 

“Mine, too,” Lewis said. “Especially the way he tries to make himself seem better than everyone else.”

“I’m starving, and thanks to him, we had to wait an additional 30 minutes till we got our grub,” agreed Rodriguez. 

“Be glad it wasn’t longer,” Dawson said darkly. “Dude can’t keep his mouth shut.”

Eventually, Tighe advanced to the head of the line and accessed the replicator. There was no free choice; you pushed a button and a pre-selected meal appeared. This morning’s breakfast consisted of eggs, toast and a small cup of fruit salad. He picked up his tray and carried to a nearby table, where he was shortly joined by Dawson, Lewis and Rodriguez. To his displeasure, Alvy sidled up and plopped his tray down as well.

“First names are a fascinating subject,” Alvy continued, as if there had been no interruption to their previous conversation. “Take mine, for instance – Abel. It’s been in the family for generations. I’m named after my grandfather on my mother’s side.”

“Abel Alvy,” Rodriguez said, his lip curling. “You couldn’t find anyone less able.”

“My grandfather was a commodore in Starfleet,” Alvy said immediately. “What did _your_ grandfather do, Carlos?”

“We’re not on a first name basis,” Rodriguez snapped at him. “And for your information, my grandfather founded and still runs a real-estate business in Luna City.”

“Now Sirius, here,” Alvy said, nodding at Dawson, “he’s got an old noble name, Roman in origin.”

Dawson stared at Alvy dismissively. “We ain’t on a first name basis, either.”

“At least it’s better than being called ‘Dawg’,” Tighe said to him _sotto voce_.

“Which is better than ‘Tiny’,” Dawson replied in the same tone.

“Now Justin here,” Alvy said, indicating Tighe, “he’s got a _really_ noble first name. Justin was the name of one of the Roman Emperors.” Unlike the other recruits, who mostly hailed from various planets and colonies in the sector, Alvy frequently alluded to the fact that he was from Terra itself, and had grown up just a stone’s throw from the Starfleet Command complex in San Francisco. Now he added condescendingly, “The word ‘emperor’ comes from _Imperator_ , a victorious general, a title granted by the troops he led in battle. But you already knew that, didn’t you? I wonder, is that how you see yourself, Justin? More capable than the rest of us, based on your size?”

“He’s sure got you beat when it comes to anything physical,” Dawson said promptly in defense of his friend. “I bet it bugs the shit out of you that Tighe leads the squad in all physical measures.”

“Sure, if brawn is more important to you than brains,” Alvy said with a sneer.

Refusing to rise to the bait, Tighe continued eating, appreciating that there was enough food to go around and no need to go hungry, a reflection of his impoverished childhood on Klatus Prime. There hadn’t been a lot of credits available for food - or a fancy education, a fact he was almost constantly reminded of every time Alvy opened his mouth. Take his recent discourse on Roman Emperors, for example. Despite the similarity of “Roman” to “Romulan”, Tighe guessed Alvy had been referring to a period of Earth’s history, but had no further context. From the blank looks on Dawson’s and Rodriguez’s faces, he wasn’t the only one. Truth be told, Tighe _did_ resent having his nose rubbed in his ignorance, but reminded himself that was why he had enlisted in Starfleet, why he was currently going through the rigors of basic training - so he could better his circumstances. He worked hard to conceal his resentment, but some of the other recruits were less restrained. 

As he had on multiple occasions, Alvy reminded everyone that he was from an old Starfleet family and his future was laid out for him. “Then why didn’t you just go to the Academy?” asked Rodriguez. “What are you doing here on Robius with the rest of us grunts?”

“I’m just going through this basic training for extra toughening,” Alvy said loftily. “I assure you, I’m not going to be an enlisted crewman all my life.”

“You sure need _something_ , if your performance so far is any indication,” Dawson said.

“Like I said, I’ve got brains instead of brawn,” Alvy said, flushing slightly. “Anyway, you know Tighe lied about his age to get in, didn’t you?” 

Tighe immediately tensed. He _had_ actually lied on his entrance forms, claiming he was 17 so he could enlist even though he was only 15 at the time. He had just turned 16 one week ago, but there was no way Alvy could know that. Keeping his voice level, he said aloud, “What are you talking about?”

“That you’re really much older than the rest of us,” Alvy said. “That’s why your stamina is so much greater, you’re really in your mid-twenties, right?” He quickly added, “Just kidding.” 

“Yeah, right,” Tighe said.

After breakfast was over, the recruits spent a quarter of an hour going over their gear and kits and then set off on a 10 km hike with full packs. To no one’s surprise, Tighe ran at the head of the squad, easily keeping pace with the drill instructor. Once they reached their destination – an old, abandoned camp now used primarily as a shooting range - they did target practice with their phaser rifles. 

Alvy grimaced as he indicated the heavy-duty rifles, which could also be set to fire projectiles with minor modifications. “It’s a waste of time to practice with these. Everyone knows that phaser pistols are the regular issue for Starfleet personnel.” He looked around carefully; Cassein wasn’t within earshot. “Only security grunts – ground forces – would carry these. Anyway, everyone knows that Starfleet’s mission is one of peaceful exploration.” 

“And to defend the Federation,” Tighe said, surprising himself. He hadn’t intended to respond to any more of Alvy’s jibes. “You can’t just use words - sometimes you have to back them up with a show of force.”

Sure enough, Alvy gave him a superior look. “I know that, of course. I’m going for command track with an eye to eventually conducting diplomatic negotiations.”

“Of course,” Dawson said drily, “as you’ve already shown a real flair for diplomacy.”

They headed back to the main base soon afterward. After a late lunch of chicken and rice with a side of spinach, they changed again to their workout clothes for a _krav maga_ class with the three other squads which made up their platoon. The recruits were paired off for sparring, matched for height and weight. Tighe faced off with a member of another squad.

Tighe dispatched his opponent in short order, much to the displeasure of the instructor. “Tighe! Watch what you’re doing!”

Tighe glanced down at the mat, and saw the other recruit clutching his nose; blood streamed down the sides of his face. “Shit. Mueller, you OK?”

Mueller mumbled something that sounded like, “I dink you broke by dose.”

“I’m sorry,” Tighe said remorsefully. “Didn’t mean to hit you that hard.” He offered a hand to Mueller, who accepted it gratefully, and hauled him to his feet.

“Sure, no hard beelings,” Mueller said. 

“Mueller, get to the infirmary,” ordered the instructor. “Tighe, you mind telling me what the hell happened? You brawl like a street fighter.”

Tighe felt himself turn red. “Sorry,” he repeated. 

The instructor shook his head. “You should know better than to let yourself get carried away. You _do_ know better than that.”

Stung at the unnecessarily added rebuke, Tighe couldn’t help saying, “Is the point to win the fight or get points for your artistry?”

The instructor stiffened. “Get out of here, Tighe. Go with Mueller to the infirmary and make sure he’s all right.” He turned his attention back to the rest of the group. “OK, now switch partners and let’s do this again.”

Tighe hurried to catch up with Mueller. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked again. “You _did_ go down pretty hard.”

“I’m bine,” Mueller said as he entered the building marked as the infirmary, “or at least I will be. Don’t worry about it.” 

Tighe hung back as the doctor on duty rushed over to take care of Mueller, alerted by the sight so much blood. “It looks worse than it id,” Mueller reassured him.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” the doctor said shortly. He ran the regenerator over Mueller’s face, and then told the nurse to clean him up. “There you go, good as new.”

Mueller gratefully rubbed his face with the towel. “Man, that feels better. Nothing personal, Tighe, but I think I’m going to ask for a different sparring partner next time.” He tossed the used cloth into a bin. “Seriously, where’d you learn to fight like that?”

“I used to run with the gangs on my home world,” Tighe said briefly. At the look of surprise on Mueller’s face, he quickly added, “That was years ago, when I was a kid. I gave it up to work in the mines to help support my family.”

To Tighe’s relief, Mueller asked no further questions and they parted ways to return to their respective squads.

In the late afternoon, there was more physical training, including a run through the obstacle course, followed by a dinner of lentil stew. To Tighe’s relief, Alvy kept his distance. Perhaps it was just luck, or maybes word had gotten out about what happened in the _krav maga_ instruction. Either way, he’d take it.

Afterward, some of the squad set out for patrol. Robius was located deep in the heart of the Federation, just a few parsecs from sector 01. There were no installations on the planet that were not part of the training base complex – and only a small civilian population, primarily made up of the families of the permanent staff. There was no real need for guard duty, but it was still part of their training. Tighe had been on duty the night before, and so he returned to the barracks now. They had an hour of free time before lights out, in which they were supposed to get their gear ready for the next day and shower. The recruits were also allowed to record personal messages home and read any communications they had received. 

After checking his field kit, Tighe went to the main comm center and signed in to check if he’d received any personal communications. He was happy to see there were two text messages waiting for him. One was from his mother, and the other from his 6-year old sister Kallie. 

Text messages were the cheapest of the available options. Tighe tuned out the conversations of other recruits on video calls – some occurring in real time and others taped - as he pushed the button on the sign-in console to receive his printouts. Once they were in hand, he went to the seating area to read.

He started with his mother’s letter first.

_Dear Justin,_

_I am well, as is Kallie. We miss you very much._

_I hope basic training is going well for you. You should be done with your first month by now – only 3 more to go! I know it must be hard, but you’re strong and I’m sure you will do all right._

_Thank you for the credits you sent; the bank notified me of the latest deposit. I was surprised when they told me the amount – it sounds like it was your entire salary, dear. I’m concerned that you’re not keeping anything for yourself._

Tighe sighed. He had already explained in a previous letter that Starfleet met all his needs now – food, clothing and shelter - so he didn’t really have any use for the monthly salary he received as a recruit. But Serena still worried. 

_Please write soon and let us know how you are._

_All my love,  
Mama_

There was no mention of Clem at all. Tighe unconsciously clenched his fists as he thought of the man that until recently he’d considered his father – and the abuse he’d suffered at his hands throughout his childhood, which had stopped only once Tighe had grown big enough to fight back. 

He’d finally learned the truth about his parentage that last night he’d spent on Klatus Prime, flung at him during a final confrontation with Clem. Serena had given him a few more details the next morning; his bio father had been from off-world. Serena had spoken about how happy they were, and how much she loved the man, but the fact remained that he had still left her after a few months, gone back to wherever he’d come from. Only afterward had Serena discovered she was pregnant. She then married Clem Lemel, who’d promised to take care of her and raise the child as his own. _So much for promises_. When Tighe had applied for the Starfleet enlisted program, he’d put down on his application that his father was deceased; not far from the truth as far as he was concerned. He’d taken his mother’s maiden name rather than Clem’s to start his new life.

He turned to Kallie’s letter. 

_Hi Justin!_

_Mama is helping me write this because we haven’t done very much writing yet in school. But we have been doing a lot of reading and I will be able to read your letters when you write back!_

_I really like school a lot. My teacher is very nice. She smiles a lot and doesn’t yell, even when some of the other kids haven’t done their homework. They just have to stay in during recess to make up their work. My class is very big – there are 30 kids altogether and unfortunately more than half of them are boys. They are the ones who don’t do their homework! All of the girls are friendly except for Patty Levine who is very stuck up and always boasting about all the nice stuff she has because her father is a supervisor in the mines. She used to make fun of the other girls who wear patched clothes until the teacher heard her talking and put a stop to it right away!_

_I like all the things we are learning about. Besides reading and writing we are also doing adding and subtracting numbers. My best friend is Imogene Santos, but we call her Gena, and we share a desk at school. She is envious that I have a pet cat though I told her that Fluffy is also a working cat as his job is to keep the rats and mice out of the apartment. Gena is the oldest kid in her family and she has three little sisters. She says they can be a real pain but I told her I would love to have a little sister or brother to play with. Which reminds me – Mama told me last week that she is going to have a new baby! She says the baby will be here in another two months and I can’t wait! I wish you were so we could talk about the new baby and you could tell me what it was like for you when I was born and you became a big brother. I wish you were here anyway, Justin. I miss you so much! Mama says you are training to be a ‘Fleeter and wear a uniform every day. She says you are so much happier than you were when you worked in the mines, but I still wish you could be home again._

_Love,  
Kallie_

Tighe smiled when he came to the end of his sister’s missive, then folded the sheets of paper and put them in his pocket. He felt an unexpected stab of homesickness but reminded himself that he was working to make a better life for them all. 

A quick check of the chrono told him he had to hurry if he wanted to finish showering before lights out. He would answer both letters tomorrow evening.


	2. Chapter 2

_Six weeks later_

Cassein blew the whistle, and the recruits leaped from the starting blocks to start the 5K. It was an easy run, and Tighe anticipated that like the previous time, he would complete the distance in approximately 12 minutes, maybe even beat his personal best of 11:56. However, his legs seemed to have other ideas. They felt unusually heavy, for some reason, and it was an effort to keep them pumping up and down.

His head hurt, too. He’d brushed off the headache he’d woken up with as a sign of fatigue, although he usually felt refreshed after just 4 to 5 hours of sleep. His mother had once used the expression “bone weary” to describe how she felt when Kallie was a newborn, and he thought now he knew exactly what she meant. His very bones ached. The longer he ran, the slower he seemed to go. He didn’t realize just how much he’d slowed down, though, until Alvy caught up with him. 

“Hey, Tiny, what’s up with you? Better hurry if you want to catch me!” Alvy jeered over his shoulder as he ran past.

With a shock, Tighe realized he’d fallen behind the entire squad. He lunged forward to pick up his pace, but to his dismay the track began to spin around him. Darkness overtook his vision as the ground rushed up to greet him.

Much later, he opened his eyes. He was lying down, but he wasn’t in his cot in the barracks. The pattern of the acoustic tiles overhead was different. From the sharp smell of antiseptic in the air, he realized he must be in the infirmary.

He struggled to sit up but was too weak. A nurse immediately came over. “Now you better lie right back down!” she fussed at him. “You have to stay in bed!” 

“Why? What’s wrong with me?” Tighe asked. He frowned, trying to remember how he got there. “I was running on the quad…”

“You’ve come down with a case of Rigellian flu,” the nurse said as she finished tucking the blanket in around him. “You’ll be in the infirmary for at least a week.” 

“A week?” Tighe protested, though his arms and legs ached terribly, and he still felt lightheaded, even lying down. “I can’t stay laid up here for that long! I’ve got to get back to my squad.”

“Your squad is just going to have to do without you for the next seven days. You may be in the middle of basic training, but doesn’t change the fact that you’re pretty sick,” the nurse said.

Tighe’s indignant reply was lost in a hacking cough. 

The doctor arrived just then, adding his authority. He waved his scanner over Tighe, glancing at the readings on the wall monitor over the bed. “You’ll need lots of rest over the next several days. You may not think so now, but I assure you that you won’t have your usual stamina, no matter your genetic heritage.”

Tighe was puzzled by the last statement, but before he could ask, the doctor went on to say, “Rigellian flu. Nobody gets this anymore – the closest equivalent would be Terran measles or chicken pox back in the twentieth century! Weren’t you inoculated as a child?” 

“I don’t think I was,” Tighe answered truthfully. “I didn’t have any of the standard childhood vaccinations.” 

“Good Lord, where did you grow up?” asked the doctor incredulously.

“I’m from Klatus Prime,” Tighe said.

The doctor muttered something under his breath. It was too low for Tighe to quite make out, but he was pretty sure he caught the phrase, “backwater planet.” Tighe flushed. Perhaps realizing his remark had been audible, the doctor cleared his throat and made a show of turning off his scanner. “I’ll make a note in your records and we’ll bring your vaccinations up to speed as soon as you’re recovered.” 

***  
Four days later, Tighe was going stir crazy. His temperature indicated nothing more than a low-grade fever and his rash was fading rapidly, but they still wouldn’t let him out of bed. He had nothing to do except lie there “recovering”, but all he could think about was how far he was falling behind in basic training. In a little more than a month the recruits would undergo multiple days of physical tests, followed by a written exam to determine what field of study they would pursue in advanced training. Instead of running through training exercises, however, he was forced to remain in bed waiting for his energy levels to rise. Admittedly, the first couple of days he’d been too weak to do very much but lie there, but now he could feel himself slowly regaining his strength. 

A consequence of feeling better, however, was boredom. His biobed was in a small room off the main ward and faced a blank wall. Off to one side, there was a narrow table that swung over his bed and usually held his tray at mealtimes. On the other side was a small console that was hooked up to the wall monitors over his head. Aside from that, there was nothing to see. He’d read through the articles in the few available PADDs multiple times, and there was nothing new to read, only his own thoughts to keep him company. The only break to the monotony came at mealtimes, though there was even less choice available from the infirmary replicators than the ones in the Mess Hall, and the food was bland and tasteless. 

It had gotten so Tighe was even glad to see the nurse, even though her visits usually meant a painful procedure like a blood draw or musculo-neural therapy, or an embarrassing one like a sponge bath. As he’d discovered, Rigellian flu usually hit (unvaccinated) six-year olds, and the nurse seemed bound and determined to treat him like one.

But this time, her appearance heralded something different. “You’ve got visitors,” she told him shortly and raised her voice so the intruders in her realm knew she brooked no impinging on her absolute authority. “You’ve got 15 minutes, boys, and don’t tire him out!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dawson said, standing in the doorway, clearly waiting for her to step aside and allow him to enter. 

“We’ll make sure Tighe doesn’t try to run any marathons,” added Rodriguez helpfully from Dawson’s side. The nurse rolled her eyes as she exited to give them some privacy.

“Hey,” Tighe said, happy to see them. “You’re the first normal people I’ve seen since I’ve been cooped up here.”

“Normal?” questioned Dawson.

“Did I say that? I mean non-medical,” Tighe said. He started to sit up, but then thought better of showing any weakness in front of the others. Instead, he tapped the control panel on the side of his bed to raise himself to a sitting position.

Rodriguez whistled. “Fancy bed, Tighe! See any action with Nurse Ratchet there?”

“Nah,” said Dawson immediately as he sat down on the edge of it while Rodriguez pulled up a chair from another part of the room. “She wouldn’t want him to get ‘tired out.’”

“Not unless she was the one doing the tiring,” Rodriguez said with a knowing grin.

“Cut it out,” Tighe said, his face flushing at his friends’ banter. “It’s great to see you! I’ve been going nuts in here.”

“Yeah, you’re just lazing around on your sorry ass while we’re working hard,” Dawson said, kidding and then grew serious. “How much longer are they going to keep you?”

“At least another few days,” Tighe said glumly as he pushed away more thoughts of falling behind in his training.

“Well, they want to make sure you’re well and truly over it before you get back to the squad,” Rodriguez said. “And you really do want to be at one hundred percent before you come back. They’ve really amped up the physical stuff in the last week. Gearing up for the end of basic training, is my guess.”

This revelation did nothing to lessen Tighe’s uneasiness about losing so much time laid up in the infirmary. He sought to change the subject instead. “So, what else is going on?”

Dawson and Rodriguez immediately launched into the latest happenings in the squad. Tighe listened, more interested than he would have thought at hearing about Lewis’s most recent prank on the members of their neighboring squad. Lewis had received six consecutive nights of guard duty as a result. “But it was worth it to see the look on their faces!” chortled Dawson.

Tighe smiled. “I’ll bet! What else did I miss?”

“Oh, not much else,” Rodriguez said. Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Alvy failed yet another physical test.”

“Yeah?” Tighe asked. “Which one?”

“Obstacle course,” Rodriguez said. “Still can’t get over the wall.”

“Even if he could, he’s still losing a ton of time before he even gets that far,” Dawson said with a sneer. “I’ve never seen anyone as uncoordinated as Alvy trying to go hand-over-hand over the mud pit - no wonder he always falls in. He’s lucky they let him just go around it after he falls in the first time instead of trying again.” He laughed, a little unkindly.

“Maybe he’ll flunk out,” Rodriguez said hopefully.

“We should be so lucky,” Dawson said.

Tighe was enjoying the visit but despite not wanting to admit it, he tired easily and was relieved when the nurse came back to shoo away his visitors, telling them their time was up. 

Dawson and Rodriguez got up reluctantly. “Yeah, we’ve got to get back before lights out. Well, take care of yourself, Tighe. And don’t worry – you’ll be back in the barracks before you know it.” Rodriguez pumped Tighe’s hand enthusiastically and Tighe tried not to visibly wince at the pressure on his fingers.

“Almost forgot,” Dawson said, fishing in his pocket and bringing out some folded papers. “I brought you your letters from home.”

“Thanks, man. I really appreciate it,” Tighe said gratefully. 

After they left, he eagerly spread out the pages preparatory to reading. Come to think of it, he hadn’t received any mail for a while. With a frown, he realized there was no letter from Serena, only one from Kallie.

_Dear Justin,_

_My teacher is helping me with my spelling in this letter because Mama gave birth to a baby boy a few weeks ago. His name is James. He is very cute but very tiny! Our old neighbor, Mrs. Mayfield, has been coming by to help since Mama came home from the hospital and she says he is the smallest baby she has ever seen._

Justin’s frown deepened. Hospital? Kallie had been born at home, delivered by Mrs. Mayfield. His face darkened as he vividly remembered the night of Kallie’s birth. Clem had beaten him in a drunken rampage, breaking his arm, and Serena had tried to intervene; the beating had ended only when she’d gasped that the baby was coming. 

It hadn’t been an easy birth, but there had been no need for a hospital stay afterward. He wondered what was different this time. Serena had obviously had a tough time in labor, but was there some reason she wasn’t recovering like she should be? He tried to reassure himself that at least she was able to afford decent medical care, thanks to the credits he was sending her every month.

Another thought struck him. The baby was born a few weeks ago? That would make the birth around a month early, maybe a bit more, based on what Serena had told him before he’d left home.

 _Mama says I am a very big help and I am learning to clean and cook as well as change James’s diapers. When he cries I bring him to Mama to feed him and then I rock him back to sleep in the cradle afterward. He is a very good baby and so beautiful! I think he looks just like Mama, with blond hair and gray eyes but she says he reminds her a lot of me when I was born even though he doesn’t have enough hair for it to curl yet._

Tighe smiled sardonically at that; his own black hair and dark green eyes were strikingly different from the rest of the family’s fair coloring. He supposed he must take after the man who had fathered him, though he’d never laid eyes on him and probably never would.

_Da just says he looks like a baby. I think James is the most beautiful baby in the whole wide world, and I’m sure when you see him you will think the same._

Tighe’s mouth went down at the corner. He was glad that Kallie was so taken by the baby but all he could think about was how worried he was about all of them, Serena and the baby, and Kallie as well. Deep down, he was also a little resentful of the new arrival because the pregnancy had been the reason Serena had given for not leaving Clem. 

The rest of Kallie’s letter was more of the same; Kallie continued to wax enthusiastically about James, mentioning again how tiny he was, and that he cried a lot. Tighe knew that babies cry a lot – he remembered Kallie’s infancy - but what Kallie described seemed to be excessive, and she mentioned in passing how pale and tired Serena was. Was she still getting over the birth, or was it something more? He tried to read between the lines, concerned that Clem was back to his old abusive behavior. But all he could tell was that Kallie had taken on a greater role in the household chores and helping with the baby. Briefly, toward the end, she mentioned that Clem was between jobs again. 

I _love you and miss you, Justin, and can’t wait until you come home to meet James. Mama misses you too, I know._

Tighe clenched his fist impotently and redoubled his determination to create a better life for them all. He fantasized about saving his family but also admitted he wanted it for himself as well. Glancing around the infirmary ward, he swore he would do whatever it took to accomplish his dreams.


	3. Chapter 3

Tighe ran through the obstacle course, pushing himself as hard as he could. The other members of the squad cheered him on, as he had a real shot at breaking the current record. He grabbed the bars overhead, his longer reach giving him a significant advantage. He swung easily across the wide but shallow mud puddle, then hit the ground running again.

Their entire platoon, consisting of multiple squads, was in the final two weeks of basic training, going through the last series of tests. Next up was advanced training at the Starfleet Technical Services Academy, the enlisted personnel training facility located on Mars. No longer raw recruits, they’d be full-fledged members of Starfleet with the rank of crewmen, and the opportunity to specialize in the field of their choice. And all they needed to get there was to pass the physical qualifying tests. That last thought spurred him to push even harder. He caught up to and then overtook two other recruits who had started the obstacle course ahead of him, breathing hard yet still passing them with no difficulty.

The wall loomed ahead of him. He grabbed the end of the rope and pulled himself up and over the top. He was vaguely aware of someone dangling on the end of the other rope, trying desperately to pull himself up but to no avail. He got only a quick flash of a thin and beaky face, accompanied by a muffled curse, but it was enough to tell him it was Alvy.

After clearing the wall, Tighe dropped to his belly and crawled for 200 meters through the raised protrusions that appeared at irregular intervals, keeping his head down to avoid the drones whizzing overhead to simulate enemy fire. He passed the point where they dropped away and pulled himself to his feet, breaking into a run. His speed intensified as he saw the finish line ahead. Moments later, he passed the official timekeeping screen which flashed “8:48” and was surrounded by people congratulating him and pounding him on the back. 

“You did it! You did it!” screamed Rodriguez, who’d finished his own run earlier. “You broke the record!” 

“Well done, Tighe,” Cassein said. The squad leader’s expression didn’t change, but his pride in his recruit’s accomplishment was evident.

Dawson let out another whoop. “So, we gonna celebrate or what?” he demanded.

“Maybe wait till after the written aptitude exams tomorrow,” cautioned Lewis. “That’ll determine our specializations, after all.”

“Pass the physical tests, you pass basic training – you know that!” said Dawson, rolling his eyes. “Ain’t nothing gonna keep us from advanced training now!” 

“Yeah, let’s enjoy this moment,” argued Rodriguez, and Tighe, flush with his achievement, agreed whole-heartedly. They headed back to the barracks in high spirits and broke out some illicit bottles of synthehol that Dawson had stashed in his footlocker.

That moment of triumph was short-lived, however. The next morning, Tighe was feeling more than a bit nervous when he entered the auditorium to take the engineering exam. Back in the mines on Klatus Prime, he’d occasionally helped out the local techie with repairs or a thorny engineering problem. He’d shown a real knack for fixing things, and in his spare time had read all the technical manuals he could get his hands on, even managing to figure out some advanced system issues on his own. All of this had sparked his interest in engineering. Even though he’d left school at age 12 to go to work in the mines, prior to that he’d studied some advanced calculus and trigonometry in private tutoring sessions with his teacher, and he’d convinced himself he had a real shot at a career as a Starfleet engineer. 

He was wrong. So wrong. The exam consisted of ten problems, and he was only able to answer the first one, a simple question about parallel connected resistors. The next question was about warp dynamics, and the questions got harder from there. Tighe did his best, guessing where he could, but he knew it would not be enough to pass. 

Afterward, he was in a sour mood. In the Mess Hall, everyone was talking about the exams, in particular discussing possible answers to the problems.

“Man, I should have paid better attention to my high school physics teacher!” was a common refrain among those who’d taken the engineering exam, and from the ensuing analyses of the questions in snippets of conversations he overheard, Tighe realized he knew even less than he thought he did. 

Not everyone had taken the engineering exam, of course, though it was by far the most popular. Other subject exams included logistics, network operations, system administration, and navigation. A lot of people were uneasy about their results, unsure of how they did. _It’s not just me_ , Tighe tried to comfort himself. _Everyone feels the same way._

“Hell, we can’t all have flunked!” Dawson said finally in exasperation. He’d taken the engineering exam as well. “And even if we did, what’s the worst that can happen? You become a security grunt, but hell, you’re still in Starfleet.” He raised his voice to drown out some of the nearby objections. “I still say at least some of us must have passed! They can’t possibly expect us to know everything already – that’s why we’ve got advanced training next!”

Tighe looked at him, flooded with a sense of overwhelming relief. “You’re right,” he said. “After all, these are just aptitude exams. We’re all still Starfleet.” The recruits sitting nearby nodded in agreement.

The subject finally changed to other topics and they dug into their food heartily. Toward the end of the meal, Lewis looked around. “Hey, has anyone seen Alvy?” 

Tighe shook his head. “No. I don’t think I saw him since the obstacle course yesterday.”

“Why are you looking for that piece of misery?” asked Dawson, disdain apparent in his voice.

“Dude owes me five credits, from the first week of basic training when he wanted to get something from the commissary,” Lewis said. He glanced around warily. “I just realized that we’ll be packing up and heading out to Sol system real soon, so he needs to pay me back.”

“We’re not shipping out for another three days so there’s still time,” Rodriguez said. He gestured toward the roll on Tighe’s plate. “You gonna eat that?”

Tighe passed it to him without comment.

“You’d still better collect ASAP,” said Kirosa, a recruit from another squad who was sitting at their table.

“Why?” Lewis said.

“Didn’t you hear? Alvy flunked the physical requirements and is out of the program.”

“No, seriously?” Tighe said.

Kirosa shrugged. “That’s what I heard when I stopped by the central comm building earlier. Alvy and two other recruits from the 86th are out.”

“Praise the Lord we don’t have to be saddled with him any longer,” Dawson said, to a hearty chorus of agreement. “Can you imagine going through another four months having to listen to him on a daily basis?” He shuddered exaggeratedly.

“Shit, I better find him before he leaves!” Lewis shoved back his chair and left in pursuit of his five credits.

The rest of them didn’t give Alvy a further thought.

Since the exams were over, they had some extra free time this evening. “So, what do you think of going to one of the civilian establishments off base to celebrate the end of the first phase of our training?” Dawson said as they left the Mess Hall.

“I thought the civilian bars are off-limits to recruits,” Tighe pointed out.

“Exactly, _recruits_ ,” Dawson emphasized. “But we’ve completed all the basic training requirements now, so we’re officially crewmen.”

“You’re splitting hairs,” Rodriguez said, shaking his head. “I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize our standing, not when we’ve worked so hard to get this far.”

“Oh, come on, there’s nothing to worry about,” Dawson said in exasperation. “Everyone else is going, I heard them talking about it. The entire 74th plans to go, and--”

The 74th was the female platoon. “I’m game,” Tighe said immediately, thinking of the willowy red-haired girl he’d seen around the Mess Hall. They hadn’t exchanged more than a few “hellos” but he would love to get to know her better. A chill breeze brought him up short. “I just want to stop off at the barracks first and pick up my jacket.”

“I’ll come with you,” Rodriguez said, and Dawson decided to tag along as well. 

“Looking forward to seeing the ladies?” asked Rodriguez on their way back to the barracks. Without waiting for an answer, he went on, “I sure am. It’s been a long time, if you know what I mean, getting through basic training without any company the way they kept us separated.”

“And a good thing, too, to keep ‘em safe from Lotharios like you,” Tighe shot back. 

Rodriguez grinned. “I’ll have you know I can be a perfect gentleman when I want to be.” 

“Key point – _when_ he wants to be,” Dawson said, digging his elbow into Rodriguez’s ribs.

“You do have a point, though,” Tighe said thoughtfully. “Why do we have separate training facilities from the female recruits? I never thought about it till now, but why is it that way?”

“You’re not going to hold them to the same physical standards – different physical abilities, different body types,” Dawson said. 

“Vive la différence!” Rodriguez said enthusiastically.

“That’s also why they have different bases for Humans and non-Humans,” Dawson went on, ignoring the interruption. “You wouldn’t want to go up against a Nausicaan, would you? Or maybe _you_ wouldn’t have so much of a disadvantage, Tighe, but the rest of us would!”

“Men and women aren’t so different,” Tighe argued. “There aren’t any distinctions between cadets at the Academy, are there?”

“No, and there won’t be any more separations when we start advanced training,” Dawson conceded as they entered the barracks. “Whatever, I am really looking forward to this evening!”

“Yeah, there’s this girl with the most amazing--” Rodriguez broke off suddenly. “What the hell does he think he’s doing?”

Tighe looked up sharply. Alvy stood at the far wall, next to the window. He was in full uniform and holding up the despised phaser rifle, shifting it from side to side as if weighing the balance. Suddenly, he reversed it so the barrel was pointing at his own chest, then swore when he couldn’t reach the trigger.

Tighe’s blood ran cold at the sudden realization that Alvy was so despondent about flunking out of the program, he was going to try to commit suicide. 

In a low voice, Tighe said, “Go get Cassein or one of the other officers. Hurry!”

Rodriguez nodded and slipped away without Alvy noticing him. Dawson hesitated and then retreated as well. The door banged behind him.

Alvy was busy fumbling with the rifle, still trying to get it in the proper position. At the sound of the door, however, he looked up and saw Tighe.

 _Damn_ , Tighe thought, but seized the initiative. “Alvy, what the hell are you doing?”

“Didn’t you hear the news?” Alvy said, in his old disdainful tone. “I’m sure it’s all over the base by now.” His features twisted unpleasantly. “I flunked out, that’s it. I’m done.”

Tighe took a cautious step forward. “I know you’re upset but it’s not worth killing yourself over.” 

“Why not, my whole life is over,” Alvy said with a sob. “Did you know I applied to the Academy three times already and failed the entrance exam each time?” he blurted out. “That’s why I came to the basic training program on Robius - as a last resort.” He took a deep breath and pulled the rifle closer. “Now I have nothing left.”

“That’s not the answer,” Tighe said, moving forward another few steps till he was almost close enough to touch him. “Just put down the phaser.” 

“Don’t come any closer!” Alvy warned.

“Don’t be a damn fool, Alvy!” Tighe exclaimed.

“Why not, that’s what you all think I am anyway,” Alvy said wildly. “You’ve thought that all along and damned if you’re not right.” His fingers trembling visibly, he fumbled at the trigger controls. Abruptly, he stood the rifle on the floor in front of him, and crouched down, tucking the muzzle underneath his chin.

Tighe lunged for him, desperate to reach him and knock the barrel away before it fired. At the same moment, Cassein and another squad leader burst into the room. Tighe barely managed to shove the rifle to the side before the beam lanced out, leaving a scorch mark where it bounced off the wall. The officers managed to disarm Alvy and whisked him off to the infirmary.

Crisis averted, Tighe sagged against the wall in relief. Somehow, he was no longer so interested in going out to celebrate.

***  
At 0900 hours the next morning, the aptitude exam results were posted to every console on the base, listed according to the recruits’ serial numbers. When it was his turn to look, Tighe saw right away that he did not receive a passing score. He hadn’t learned enough math. He’d never studied the requisite physics or basic warp dynamics either. He closed his eyes and sought to control his reaction, but he was very upset. _He would never be an engineer_. Defeated, he was about to step away and then remembered to check his advanced training assignment.

 _Security_. Tighe immediately assumed it was solely due to his size and physique. Alvy’s past taunts about all brawn and no brain came to mind. 

He headed back toward the barracks, only half-hearing the calls of his fellow squad members and barely acknowledging them, when he was intercepted by Cassein.

“Tighe,” the squad leader said as he placed a hand on his arm and steered him off the main path. “Let’s take a walk.”

“Yes, sir.”

They walked in silence for several minutes until they came to a relatively deserted area of the base, beyond the obstacle course. The ropes still hung from the top of the wall, swaying slightly in the breeze. Tighe glanced around, recognizing this spot as one of the ones he’d passed many times while running the 5K drills.

“So you finally found something that didn’t come easy,” Cassein said softly.

Tighe looked up in outraged shock. “Easy? With all due respect, sir, do you think _anything_ about my life up to now has been easy?”

“Yes,” Cassein said patiently. “I know you come from a hardscrabble background – growing up in poverty, plenty of times not knowing where your next meal was coming from. Just like most of these boys.” He smiled briefly. “There’s a reason you came looking to join Starfleet.”

Tighe nodded, somewhat mollified.

“Security - it’s an assignment like any other. No disgrace, you know - we need good security personnel. They’re the backbone of the ‘Fleet, the way in which Starfleet most overtly protects the interests of the Federation, which is our _raison d’être_ after all.” Cassein gave him a sharp look, as if to make sure Tighe was paying attention. “The point of serving in Starfleet is to _serve_. This isn’t a fancy university in which they cater to your every whim and try to suit your needs. Here you make something of yourself to best serve the Federation.”

“Yes, sir. I know that.” Tighe fell silent for a moment. “But I wanted to be an engineer.” 

“So, you didn’t have the educational background for what you wanted,” Cassein said, not unkindly. “We don’t always get what we want in life, but from my perspective, you’re in a pretty good place.” 

“Am I?” Tighe couldn’t help asking, though he tried not to say it sarcastically.

“You’re still in this - you made it to the next level,” Cassein pointed out. “Not everyone did. Look at poor Alvy.”

“I can hardly feel good about the fact that I made it when he didn’t,” Tighe said, shaking his head. “Poor bastard never had a prayer of meeting the physical standards.”

“No, he didn’t,” Cassein said. “But he tried anyway. You, on the other hand…your physical skills are extraordinary, as is your stamina. What’s more, you’ve got plenty of sharp intelligence to go with them.” Cassein gave him a sidelong glance. “That is, if you bother using it.”

Tighe realized he needed to stop feeling sorry for himself. He nodded, “Yes, sir, you’re right.”

Cassein slapped him on the back. “Buck up, Tighe. I’ve never seen anybody apply himself like you do. You can go on and achieve great things, not just in your Starfleet career but in your life, if only you put your mind to it.”


	4. Chapter 4

Most mornings, Tighe got up at 0600 to run. Just like in basic training, the days in advanced training were long, but there the similarity ended. The crewmen were in the classroom from eight in the morning until ten at night. They were, however, still expected to keep up their physical training on a regular basis, and Tighe preferred the early morning hours before most people were awake. Because the training facility was under the dome on Mars, he wasn’t running outside in the fresh air as he had on Robius. But the air quality was excellent, and Tighe fancied he caught a bit of early morning freshness in the cool air, a faint hint of crispness that reminded him of an early fall day back home on Klatus Prime. 

He jogged down his familiar route, exchanging brief greetings with the few people he encountered. Most were maintenance workers, with an occasional officer going off night shift. With so few people around at this time of day, he found it easier to focus his thoughts, mentally preparing for his day.

For all his disappointment at his assignment to Security instead of Engineering, Tighe had applied himself diligently to his studies and was consistently near the top of their class. To his surprise, “Security” encompassed several different disciplines. As part of their security training, they learned weapons, munitions, detonations, security procedures, hand-to-hand combat, some tactical training, and basic piloting skills. Tighe was particularly looking forward to the last one; after weeks of classroom instruction and turns at the simulators, they were slated to take out an actual shuttle that afternoon. 

He finished his run, showered, and joined the breakfast queue in the Mess Hall. Unlike basic training, they had free choice for each meal; at the beginning of advanced training, Tighe had stuck to familiar dishes, but after several weeks he had begun to experiment with new types of cuisine, including non-Human. Now for the first time he was living and training with members of other species, including Bolians, Andorians, Tellarites and Vulcans, and in the Mess Hall, he would carefully observe what the others were having. As part of orientation when they’d first arrived, the training facility dietician had given a brief session on nutrition and how to plan a healthy diet. Tighe had initially been embarrassed, thinking he was being singled out as someone who’d grown up without replicators – something he was given to understand was virtually unheard of in the more 'civilized' parts of the Federation – but the dietician had been quick to note that this topic was something everybody needed to learn: “You’ve got to learn how to make healthful food choices! Can’t have you all subsisting on chocolate ice cream sundaes and hamburgers!” He’d made careful note of the unfamiliar terms and looked them up at his earliest opportunity.

Now he took his tray of oatmeal, yogurt and pickled _battata_ fruit to a nearby table. He glanced at the chrono; he had nearly an hour before classes started, and so should have plenty of time to review his notes on the blast range of standard tricobalt weapons.

***  
“Forget everything you think you know from the simulators,” Lieutenant Serafin said, her antennae curving downward in obvious irritation. The tall female Andorian instructor had seemed brusque from the outset, and the constant questions she was fielding from the crewmen had not improved her demeanor. “The only way to truly learn to fly is with actual controls in your hands, hear the hum of the engines, and feel how the ship responds to your every movement.”

“Simulators are programmed to cover every scenario, every possible condition,” put in Varin, a Vulcan crewman. “As such they are more efficient, enabling students to encounter every type of--”

Serafin raised her voice over Varin’s. “There’s nothing like the real thing, as you’ll see.” She shepherded her charges to the main shuttle bay and gestured at the vessels. “Everybody pick one.”

“Are there enough shuttles for all of us?” asked Susan Ayarro, a petite Human who perpetually wore a worried expression. “It’s probably best if we double up – I mean, flying solo doesn’t sound very--”

“You’re on the same planet where the main Federation shipyards are located!” scoffed Lieutenant Foster, one of other instructors who’d been waiting for them. “Of course, they can spare enough shuttles for each and every one of you to have your turn in the pilot seat.” Ayarro nodded, a bit uncertainly, and Tighe suddenly wondered if she was afraid of flying.

Apparently, she wasn’t the only one. “Why do security guards need to know how to fly? Isn’t that the job of the pilot?” wondered Gedanskigvort, a short heavy-set male whose forehead horns proclaimed his Ktarian heritage.

“Because security crew are expected to be a bit jack-of-all-trades,” said Serafin, gesturing in equal measures with hands and antennae. “In the normal course of events aboard a starship, you’ll have plenty of opportunity to fly. Escort operations for visiting dignitaries, for one thing. Or on a team that’s exploring a newly discovered planet through a series of flybys. Or if you’re part of a rescue operation, you may very well need to double as a pilot – those details usually number only four or at most 6 individuals. It’d be a waste to have one person limited to a single assignment.” She popped open the hatch of the nearest shuttle. “All right, who’s first?”

When it was his turn, Tighe seated himself in the pilot seat and began running through the pre-flight check. After all the time he’d spent in the simulators, it was second nature. Serafin seated herself in the co-pilot seat next to him. “Ease us out the shuttle bay,” she ordered. “One quarter impulse.”

“Aye, aye,” Tighe responded and ran his hands over the controls. The shuttle lurched forward, and then the movement became smoother as they picked up speed. The large doors yawned open, and the shuttle flew out, skimming the ground surface and then lifting upward. 

“Nice and steady,” Serafin said, her eyes on the console readouts in front of her, though she made no move to touch the controls. “You want a constant rate of acceleration, while keeping the nose of the craft angled upward. Yes, that’s a good angle of ascent…ease up on the thrusters a bit…all right, we’re clearing the upper atmosphere.” The reddish-brown Martian surface fell away beneath them and they were surrounded by the black expanse of space.

Following the preprogrammed flight path, Tighe banked sharply and flew over the other side of the planet, where the Utopia Planetia shipyards were located, passing the spinning Mars Station in geosynchronous orbit to his right. The lights of the domes that made up Mars Colony, home to over seven million souls, came into view next. At Serafin’s suggestion, he climbed even higher, avoiding the heavy traffic lanes where most of the ships were concentrated. 

As he maneuvered the shuttle, Tighe felt exhilarated. More than that – he felt a sense of coming home, that this was where he belonged, even more so than he’d felt the first time he’d tinkered with a mechanical system. He felt the power of the ship under his hands as they glided through space and listened to the throbbing of the engines. He thought he could detect a faint variation in the harmonics as he increased their speed to full impulse. 

“Doing well, Tighe,” Serafin said approvingly. She smiled suddenly. “I think we’re far enough away from the planetary mass now. Why don’t you take us to warp?”

Tighe flashed her a grin. “Yes, ma’am!” He could tell without looking when they passed light speed, as he saw the starburst from the aft viewport. He glanced briefly at the readout to confirm they’d achieved warp one and clearly heard the difference in the hum of the engines. The shuttle glided above the planetary plane; he glanced at the instruments again and saw they would reach the formal border of the Sol system in another five light-seconds.

“No matter how many times I’m out here, it never gets old,” Serafin said softly. “ _This_ is why you can’t just confine yourself to the simulations, why you need to have an actual vessel at your fingertips, responding to the commands you input.”

All too soon, Serafin told him to head back. From that day on, Tighe dreamed of being posted to a starship. Not a small vessel, but one assigned to deep space exploration, one that would return him to the stars.

***  
Six weeks later, there was a reception for the newly minted crewmen. It coincided with Federation Day, which commemorated the date in 2161 when the charter ratifying the original coalition of planets was signed. The actual United Federation of Planets came into being six months later, but for reasons Tighe didn’t understand, Federation Day was celebrated on the earlier date.

The hall designated for the event was crowded. The Starfleet Technical Services Academy was many times larger than the training base on Robius, and it seemed like almost the entire population had assembled here tonight. There were a few civilians who Tighe assumed were members of the staff or family members, but most of the people in attendance were Starfleet. The former were easily identifiable by their dress, with the women in long gowns, the men in plain dark suits. The enlisted crew wore jumpsuits whose upper portions were predominantly the color associated with their field of expertise; Tighe wore yellow for Security. By chance or design, Engineering’s color was also yellow and Tighe had a fleeting moment of regret at what might have been. The officers wore dress uniforms consisting of heavy over jackets belted at the waist, with a gold trim angling across the upper chest, and accompanied by tight trousers. Tighe self-consciously fingered the silver rank tag at his collar; as a Crewman Third Class, his tag bore a single diagonal piece of metal next to the familiar Starfleet chevron. He glanced at a pair of officers standing nearby and couldn’t help thinking that at least his uniform looked more comfortable. 

He had sent a picture of himself home recently, and Kallie and Serena responded that he looked very handsome in his uniform. Kallie had promptly gone on to ask if he had a girlfriend. “Mama says I shouldn’t pry but how am I supposed to find out things if I don’t ask? My teacher says an inquiring mind is very important in learning.” He’d answered that she should feel comfortable asking him anything she wanted and no, he did not have a girlfriend.

Tighe felt awkward standing there in the large hall, on the outskirts of various social clusters. He spotted a few of his classmates nearby but didn’t feel comfortable joining any of the groups; he hadn’t gotten close to anyone, not like he had by the same point in basic training. Spending hours in a classroom did not create the same type of camaraderie as physical activity on the quad, even if the time spent was essentially equivalent.

He maneuvered slowly around the hall. After a while, he finally spotted Rodriguez on the dance floor. Rodriguez had been tapped for Operations, and Tighe hadn’t had a chance to speak to him for a while. The song currently playing sounded like it was ending, and so Tighe started moving toward his friend. He stopped short as he realized that Rodriguez looked rather occupied at the moment, his arms still wrapped around his partner, a dark-haired, dark-eyed woman in a provocatively low-cut dress. 

Cursing himself for a fool, Tighe backed away. To his relief, he heard his name called and turned to see Dawson.

“Tighe! How are you? Long time no see!” Dawson said, clapping Tighe on the back enthusiastically. 

“Yeah, it has been,” Tighe said, striving to keep his voice casual. “How’s it going with Engineering?”

“It’s great!” Dawson enthused, “but I am really studying my brains out just trying to keep up. If it weren’t for Miles here, I probably wouldn’t pass Basic Warp Dynamics.” He indicated the stocky red-haired man standing next to him. “Miles O’Brien, this is Justin Tighe. Tighe, Miles.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Miles said, shaking his hand. He spoke Standard with a faint accent that Tighe couldn’t quite place.

“Likewise,” Tighe said. “Where are you from?”

“Terra,” Miles answered. “Specifically, Ireland, if you’re familiar with Earth. And you?”

“Klatus Prime,” Tighe said. “Small mining colony over in the Rigellian sector.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Miles said, though Tighe couldn’t be sure he wasn’t just saying so out of politeness. “It’s a major source of dilithium holdings, isn’t it? Something like sixty percent of the current Federation reserves?”

“It is, or used to be, before the main veins began running out a couple of decades back,” Tighe acknowledged in surprise. “Not many people know that.”

“Miles is a smart one,” Dawson said, throwing his arm across the other man’s shoulders. He held an empty glass in his other hand; not his first drink of the night, Tighe would have bet, based on his expansive manner. “You’d never guess Miles’ old man wanted him to be a musician instead of an engineer.”

“Really?” Tighe said.

“Yes,” Miles answered shortly. He turned to Dawson. “Look, Sirius, I know you wanted to stick around longer, but I think I’m going to be heading back and get some more studying in.” He added apologetically, “you’d think the geniuses in charge wouldn’t schedule a major exam the day after Federation Day, but there you go.”

“Aw come on, it’s early yet,” Dawson protested. “You know you’re going to ace the exam regardless, Miles. You can stay a little bit longer.”

“All right,” Miles said with a sigh, giving in easily despite his earlier protest. He gestured at a gray-haired officer passing to their left. “There’s old man Henderson. Quantum physics instructor,” he added for Tighe’s benefit. 

“Didn’t expect to see him here,” Dawson said with a low whistle. “The man eats, breathes and dreams plasma relays. Hey, did you finish the problem that dealt with the plasma relay manifest overload? I heard that--” he broke off suddenly, perhaps aware that he was leaving Tighe out of the conversation. “Sorry, man.”

“It’s OK,” Tighe said, even though it wasn’t. Still, he was glad Dawson had realized it without his having to say anything. 

For the next few minutes, Dawson really did seem to be trying harder to include Tighe, but their conversation kept veering back to more technical topics and things the two Engineering crewmen were covering in their courses. Although they had been good friends throughout basic training, with a pang Tighe acknowledged the obvious distance between himself and Dawson now. They really didn’t have much in common anymore. Other than a three-day seminar on basic Federation history at the beginning of advanced training, their paths just didn’t intersect anymore. After some more polite chit chat, Tighe excused himself and headed toward the bar.

As he cut through the crowd, Tighe became aware that he was the recipient of a lot of female attention. One well-endowed young woman in a pale pink gown, who looked to be in her early twenties, boldly came up to him. Without preamble, she said, “I could use a drink.” 

“The bar’s right over there,” Tighe said, with a casual gesture.

“What I meant is that you should go and get me something,” she said with a toss of her hair as she leaned suggestively toward him and put her hand on his arm, her gaze meeting his. 

He didn’t look away. “What would you like?” he asked. 

She looked him over from top to bottom and said, “For now, whiskey.” She was quite attractive, with large brown eyes, her hair in glorious red-gold ringlets that cascaded down her back. She gave him a seductive smile. 

He went to the bar and ordered her a whiskey sour. He picked up a bourbon for himself and went back to where the young woman was waiting. He handed her the drink.

She nodded her thanks. “Cheers,” she said and clinked her glass against his.

“Cheers,” he echoed and lifted his drink to his lips. Silently, he saluted Rafe, the late gang leader who had taken him under his wing when he was just a child; Rafe had died before he was twenty-two. He turned his attention back to the girl. “The name is Tighe. Justin Tighe.”

“I’m Deirdre, Deirdre Blanc, as in Commodore Blanc.”

Tighe was momentarily startled. “As in, the commandant of the corps of the Starfleet Technical Services Academy?” 

Deirdre smiled as if enjoying his discomfort. “Yes, that’s my father.” She took a long swallow of her whiskey and inched herself closer to him so that the bare top of her shoulder brushed against his chest. “I get invited to a lot of these things because of that. It’s one of the perks of being the commodore’s daughter.” 

Responding to her body language, Tighe relaxed. “So, you enjoy these types of affairs.” 

Her eyebrows rose in amusement and her perfectly full lips smiled. “You get to meet some _very_ interesting people.” Her sleeveless dress was cut exceptionally low in the front, showing more than a hint of her ample cleavage. “You’re staring at my dress. Do you like it?” 

“It appears to be a marvel of engineering,” he said, leaning forward to better enjoy the view. “And I have no idea how it’s staying up.” 

“State secrets,” she said archly, then giggled. 

He brushed his hand against hers. “You probably don’t know this, but I’m specializing in security.” 

“Does that mean that you’re trustworthy, or that you’ll find out on your own?” she asked. 

He smiled. “You’ll just have to see how it plays out.” 

Deirdre deposited her empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter. “Do you want to dance?” 

“I don’t dance,” Tighe said, with a self-deprecating smile. 

“Really? It’s not so hard.” 

“Maybe another time.” Changing the subject, he asked, “Would you like another drink?” 

“Yes,” she said, and this time accompanied him to the bar. As they waited for the bartender to fill their orders, she leaned against him, her leg pressed against his. He could feel the warmth emanating from her. “So, Justin, tell me about yourself. Where are you from?” 

“A small mining colony,” he said. He swallowed the contents of his glass, scarcely feeling the burn as it went down. “I didn’t stay because I’m moving on to bigger and better things.” 

“A man who’s going places,” she said, approvingly. “I like that.” She put her empty glass down on the bar. “Why don’t we find a quieter spot, where we can...talk.” 

Fifteen minutes later, Tighe pressed hard against Deirdre, whose back was against the wall. They were in one of the small outbuildings behind the motor pool where the ground flitters were stored. Her skirt was bunched up around her waist, and Tighe’s lips were against the side of her neck, his hands roaming freely. He thrust into her, building to his climax. She writhed desperately, seeking her own release. She cried out as she came, and Tighe followed suit a few seconds later. 

“Wow, that was incredible,” she breathed and Tighe smiled. From her familiarity with this out-of-the-way place, it was clear that Deirdre had been there before, most likely for the same purpose, but Tighe didn’t care. He reached for her again and she eagerly leaned into his embrace. 

Afterward, back in the barracks, Tighe was overcome with a sudden memory of the last woman he’d made love to. Lucy, Rafe’s girl, who he’d always admired from afar and had comforted the night that Rafe had been killed, gunned down by a rival gang. He felt the familiar wave of love and loss, and immediately clamped down on his emotions. Lucy had made it clear that she wasn’t interested in being loved, that she didn’t want him to save her. He had left Klatus Prime almost immediately after the night they’d spent together. He’d left for a number of reasons, and most of those had nothing to do with Lucy, but she had still been part of what he was running from. 

Deirdre had shown him tonight that there had been nothing special about his previous time, that there was no need for love or other emotions to enjoy the sexual act. And for that, he was grateful. 


	5. Chapter 5

He didn’t really think much about Deirdre again after that night. For the next few days, he concentrated on his usual routine of classes and security drills. The intensity of his schedule made it possible to him to push all thoughts of Deirdre – and what had happened between them – far away.

In the Mess Hall one morning, Tighe had just sat down with his breakfast tray at a table with his fellow crewmen when he noticed Gedanskigvort shoveling down his food very quickly. 

“What’s up?” Tighe asked, noting the same sense of urgency among some of the others. “Why are you in such a hurry?”

“Didn’t you hear?” Ayarro said, almost knocking over her glass of juice in her own haste. “Commodore Blanc is having breakfast with the troops this morning.” 

“Indeed,” said Vorin. 

Tighe was about to ask what that had to do with anything when Gedanskigvort hissed, “Too late! Here he comes!”

Commodore Blanc was approaching, making his way toward them in practically a straight line. He was a portly man, with a shaved head and a bulbous nose above a clipped gray mustache. He set his tray of _hasperaat_ down on their table, and they hastily made room for him. One or two of the crewmen murmured “Good morning” without making direct eye contact. 

Blanc looked around the table with a broad smile. “Well, well, what do we have here? Ktarian omelet and hash browns, _tamago kake gohan_ , _tapitz_ salad and corn beef hash. Very good.” 

Tighe took a bite of his pale green omelet. “I’m glad you approve of our breakfasts, sir.” 

There was a stunned silence and then Blanc broke into a hearty guffaw. “Point taken. I _do_ need to find some new conversational icebreakers, don’t I? What’s your name, son?” 

“Tighe, sir.”

“Ah, Tighe,” Blanc said approvingly. “I’ve heard good things about you, Crewman.” He took a sip of coffee. “You did very well in navigation and flight. Serafin says you’re a natural.”

“Thank you, sir.” Tighe relaxed a bit as he realized the Commodore meant he’d heard about him from the facility’s instructors, not from his daughter. Blanc clearly either didn’t know or care about his daughter’s social life.

Blanc turned to Gedanskigvort. “And you are?”

“Gedanskigvort, sir.”

“By any chance are you related to Captain Glukevenbard? I hope you don’t mind my asking, but we don’t get that many Ktarians in Starfleet.”

“No, sir,” Gedanskigvort said after hastily swallowing, and then took another forkful of his hash. “I’m the first member of my family to join Starfleet.”

“Ah,” Blanc said. “I just wondered, on the off chance…Gluke and I were roommates our first year at the Academy. A fine man.” He nodded at Vorin. “And what’s your name?”

The rest of the meal passed in similar fashion, with the Commodore addressing a remark or two to each person at the table. 

After Blanc left, Ayarro leaned back in her chair and exhaled in relief. She’d barely touched her food earlier and now began to eat rapidly. “Have you always been such a smartass, Tighe? Or do you have some special protection that lets you mouth off to the Commodore with impunity?”

 _Not unless you count the fact that I had sex with his daughter_ , Tighe thought. Aloud, he said, “Sorry, but commenting on the content of our breakfast trays was a pretty lame conversation starter. You’d think a man in his position would be a little better at making small talk.”

“Maybe with his peers,” Gedanskigvort said. “But not with the plebes. But at least he tried, which is more than I can say for most of the brass.” His mouth turned down at the corners. “Do you know how often I get asked if I’m related to Captain Glukevenbard? You’d swear no one has ever met a Ktarian before. And if there _is_ more than one Ktarian in Starfleet, we must be related.”

“Ktarians are not as rare in Starfleet as Vulcans,” Vorin said thoughtfully as he rose from his seat. “I do not recall, however, ever being asked if I am related to Ambassador Spock.”

Gedanskigvort shrugged. “Whatever. Come on, Ayarro, hurry up or we’re going to be late for Tactical training.”

Ayarro hastily wiped her mouth with her napkin and shoved back her tray. “Coming.”

When the weekend came and Tighe had some free time, he thought about calling Deirdre. They’d had a good time together and he was interested in seeing her again. She’d made a point of giving him her number. He was on his way to one of the buildings with access to the public communication booths when his comm badge buzzed.

“Tighe here,” he said, wondering which of his instructors was contacting him now.

Instead, a sultry feminine voice said, “Miss me?” 

“Deirdre,” he said in sudden recognition.

“Were you expecting someone else?” she asked teasingly. “It’s bad enough that you went almost a whole week without calling me.”

“Sorry, I’ve been busy,” he said automatically. He ducked to the side to avoid passersby who might overhear their conversation. He added, “I wasn’t expecting to receive a personal call on my Starfleet comm badge.”

Deirdre laughed. “If you haven’t noticed by now, I don’t always play by the official rules.” Her tone clearly implied she wasn’t above using her connections to get what she wanted. “So, _did_ you miss me? Have you been thinking of me all week while lying in your lonely bunk in the barracks?”

“Of course, I missed you,” he said, and they made arrangements to meet later.

This time, Deirdre had reserved a small room just outside the base, where civilian visitors often stayed, and they made love in more comfortable surroundings.

He saw Deirdre several more times over the next couple of months, as his schedule permitted. She was enthusiastic in bed, and he enjoyed their time together, but his feelings for her didn’t go any deeper. She was pretty, but also pretty shallow. Once, searching for something to talk about as they lay in bed afterward, he asked her how she spent her time, if she was working or going to school.

“Neither,” she replied with a yawn. “I took some classes in design at the university last year, but I didn’t complete my degree.” 

“Engineering design?” he asked, his interest piqued. 

“No, silly,” she laughed, as she leaned over to kiss him. “Fashion.”

Her conversation was full of references to various celebrities, none of whom he’d ever heard of or was remotely interested in. She also talked a lot about Earth and what it was like growing up there, always mentioning some amusing anecdote or detail about different places she’d been, her voice practically dripping with her privileged upbringing. Something about her reminded him of Alvy and he couldn’t help but wonder if all Terrans were so stuck up. He had to admit, though, that Dawson’s friend Miles had seemed like a nice enough guy. 

Deirdre also didn’t seem interested in him as a person, beyond their sexual activities. She never asked him any questions about his family – something for which he was at first grateful – and never expressed any interest in what he wanted out of life. They never spoke about the future, never looked further than their next tryst.

On another occasion, post-coital, she was very still, and he thought she’d fallen asleep. A quick glance at the chrono told him it was late and he sat up, preparatory to getting out of bed and getting dressed.

“My brother is a third-year cadet at the Academy,” she said suddenly, a wistful note in her voice. “I used to see him from time to time, when I lived with my mom in San Francisco. That was right after my parents’ divorce, of course. I moved to Mars Colony a few months ago to stay with my father.” 

He turned to look at her. The light from Phobos, the larger of Mars’s moons, shone through the window, spilling over the bed and giving her an unearthly glow. She looked young and vulnerable, the latter a trait he’d never associated with her before.

“Did you ever think about signing up or attending the Academy yourself?” he asked curiously.

She laughed, dispelling the illusion. “What an absurd notion,” she said with a slight roll of her eyes. “Why would I want to do something like that?”

“You come from a Starfleet family,” he pointed out. “Why wouldn’t you want to follow in your father’s and brother’s footsteps?”

“Me? Sign away years of my life to the service?” She laughed again, her contempt obvious. “I don’t need to join Starfleet to get what _I_ want out of life.”

“What _do_ you want?”

Deirdre reached out and ran her hand down his shoulder and chest, then moved to his groin and clasped him firmly. At her touch, he was suddenly rock-hard. “This,” she murmured. “Why don’t you lie back down?” Without waiting for his answer, she leaned over him, her breasts brushing his bare skin, and took his cock in her mouth. 

Later, back in the barracks, he thought back to what she’d said. The whole conversation served to lower her in his estimation; they clearly were not on the same path and with so little in common, he couldn’t see a future with her. He was glad that advanced training was ending soon, and he would be going off on assignment, giving him an excuse to break things off with her.

He kept putting it off, though, until finally he resolved to stop procrastinating and just do it.

Deirdre didn’t take the breakup well. “What do you mean, that’s it? You’re telling me it’s over?”

He stopped in the act of pulling on his pants. “The program finishes in another two weeks. Surely you didn’t think I’d be staying on Mars afterward.”

“I knew you’d be taking a post somewhere,” she said, pouting, “but I thought…”

Tighe put on his shirt and boots and stood. “Come on, Deirdre, we’ve had fun together but there was no way this was going to last.”

“Why not?” she said, lifting her chin defiantly. “You gave me every reason to believe—”

“Stop right there,” he said, holding up his hand. “I did nothing of the sort. And you certainly didn’t give me the impression you were interested in anything other than sex.”

She got out of bed and stalked over to him, her breasts heaving in rage. “I thought you were different. I thought you cared for me, that we would--”

“What, that we would get married?” He reared back incredulously at the idea. “That you would accompany me on my next assignment? Get real, Deirdre. Maybe you’ve gotten the wrong idea from your father’s position, but most Starfleet posts aren’t exactly conducive to family life.”

“Fine, then go!” Her voice rose shrilly. “Get out of here – I don’t need you! In fact, I can do a lot better. Guys like you are a half-credit a dozen!”

“Then I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding my replacement in the next crop of crewmen,” Tighe said coolly, and left.

***  
“As your advisor, I need to speak with you about what comes next, now that you’re finishing up advanced training. You probably know most of this already, but let’s go through it anyway,” Lieutenant Bosch said, gesturing emphatically. 

Tighe watched those hands in fascination; they hadn’t been still since Bosch had started to talk. 

“The various security postings available include: starbases, planetary outposts, starships of different sizes and crew complements. Oh, and of course, the standing so-called ‘ground’ troops which are deployed as needed. There are also the Rangers--” at Tighe’s puzzled look, Bosch added, “They’re an elite strike force unit, and they’re not just comprised of Security personnel. However, the possibility of getting in to a unit like this so early in your Starfleet career is--”

“I want something good,” Tighe said, not meaning to interrupt but he couldn’t hold back. It seemed that Bosch could go on speaking forever and it was very important to him to get his point across. “What I mean is, I want an assignment where I can--”

“They’re all good, or at least necessary and important,” Bosch said with a somewhat sheepish smile, perhaps realizing he was monopolizing what was supposed to be a two-person dialogue. He handed a PADD to Tighe. “They’re all listed here. After careful consideration, mark your top three choices. Now, there’s no guarantee you’ll get your first choice – a lot of posts are filled by order of seniority and as this is your first Starfleet assignment…”

“Does the fact that I’m enlisted as opposed to an officer also factor in?” Tighe said. He’d always suspected it was a two-tiered system and figured it was better to know for certain.

Bosch hesitated. “To be blunt, yes. In a choice between an enlisted crewman and a newly graduated ensign from the Academy, the chances are better for the ensign to be selected for the role.” He cleared his throat. “Still, your options are good as you’ve done very well in all of your classes and simulations here and have a broad-based knowledge that would be a good fit in a variety of places.”

Tighe quickly made his choices, starting with a deep-space assignment on board one of the long-range vessels. He intuited that getting a good posting on one of them was a matter of timing; a ship deployed on a five-year mission would be more likely to take on large numbers of new crew at the beginning, less so once they were already underway and out of regular range of sector 001. His chances would probably be better with medium-range vessels, which he marked as a fallback. For his final choice, he selected duty as a member of the ground troops. 

He handed the PADD to Bosch who took it without even looking at it. “The final assignments should be posted before Commencement – the closing ceremony, or 'graduation' as some refer to it,” Bosch said. “So, you won’t have to wait very long.” He held out his hand and Tighe shook it. “Good luck, Crewman.”

Tighe left the office feeling quite optimistic. He was a little disappointed he hadn’t gotten the chance to discuss his selections with Bosch – something he’d assumed would be part of the advisor meeting – but the lieutenant had a large number of other crewmen waiting to speak with him, and it had been a foregone conclusion what Tighe’s primary choice would be. 

That evening, as Tighe lay in his bunk waiting for sleep to come, he indulged in a daydream of himself at the tactical position on the bridge of a ship, as part of an expedition off to the far reaches of known space.

Over the next two days, the impending assignments were all anyone talked about. Tighe was a little surprised to hear some people’s choices – he didn’t understand why Ayarro was hoping to be assigned to HQ in San Francisco, for example – but he conceded that there was certainly a large variety of posts available.

On the third morning, Gedanskigvort, who'd been on guard duty, burst into the barracks when most of the crewmen were still asleep. “They’ve posted the assignments!”

Instantly, everyone was awake. There was a frenzy of people getting dressed and rushing out the door, heading for the main building where the crewmen could access the consoles and find out their fates. As the line inched forward, Tighe was struck by a sense of _déjà vu_ ; the last time he’d been in this situation had been at the end of basic training, to discover his specialty for the next phase. A sudden feeling of unease went through him, but he resolutely pushed it down. He _would_ get a good assignment; Bosch had practically guaranteed it. Ignoring the babble of conversation around him, he stepped up to the console and entered his name and serial number.

_Tighe, Justin – Security Department, Starbase Four_

He reared back in shock. _There must be some mistake_. He hadn’t even listed duty on a starbase as one of his choices, and yet, there it was in black and white.

He turned on his heel, his only thought that he needed to get this cleared up right away. Ignoring those who called to him, he rapidly exited the room and made his way to Bosch’s office.

Bosch looked up in annoyance when Tighe burst in through his door. “Yes, Crewman? Is there something you wanted?”

“The assignments were just posted,” Tighe said. “According to what I saw, I’m assigned to starbase duty instead of a ship. There must be some mistake.”

Bosch gave a long-suffering sigh but tapped a few commands into his console. “Yes, you are indeed assigned to Starbase Four.” He turned the monitor around so Tighe could see. “No mistake at all. Congratulations, Crewman Tighe, this is quite a prestigious post for your first Starfleet assignment!”

“But I don’t want it,” Tighe said. “I want to serve aboard a starship.”

Bosch looked at him in surprise. “Are you crazy? This is a _great_ assignment that anyone else would jump at! Starbase Four is one of the oldest and largest installations, in the heart of the Federation in the Alpha Quadrant. You could have ended up on a planetary outpost on the edge of the Romulan Neutral Zone, or an isolated starbase on the rim of the Beta Quadrant, you know.”

“If it’s such a great assignment, then someone else will want to switch with me,” Tighe said desperately. “Tell me what I need to do to make that happen.”

Bosch shook his head. “All postings are final. I thought I made it clear that as a lower-ranked enlisted crewman, you take what you get.”

“But I don’t want it,” Tighe repeated. He took a deep breath to calm himself down. “Surely there’s someone I can talk to. _Someone_ has the power to make changes in case of extenuating circumstances.”

Bosch gave him a long look. "Not being happy with your assignment is hardly ‘extenuating circumstances’.”

Tighe flushed but managed to say coolly, “There are many legitimate reasons to change assignments. Who makes the call?”

“Well, Commander Fisher, the head of the Division of Security, oversaw the final decisions,” Bosch said slowly, “But I don’t think--”

“I need to speak to the commander right away then,” Tighe said urgently. “Can you get me in to see him?”

“I suppose I can make an appointment for you,” Bosch said grudgingly. “ _If_ the commander has an opening, which is by no means guaranteed. Let me check his calendar." Bosch looked up from the screen. "Ah, he has a five-minute slot available tomorrow morning at 10:45.” He shook off Tighe’s heartfelt expressions of gratitude. “You can talk to him, but I don’t think it will do any good.”

“I’ll make him understand,” Tighe said confidently. He added in a lower voice, “I’ve got to.”

The next morning, Tighe glanced at the chrono for what felt like the hundredth time. It seemed like the numbers hadn’t advanced at all since the last time he’d looked. He’d been sitting in Commander Fisher’s outer office for the past two hours, waiting to get inside. Fisher’s aide, an attractive young female lieutenant who refused to divulge her own name, had confirmed that Tighe was listed as having an appointment, but that the commander was a very busy man, especially with the Commencement ceremony scheduled to take place that evening. Tighe fought down his rising impatience.

Finally, the lieutenant looked up at him and smiled. “The Commander will see you now, Crewman,” she said.

“Thank you.” Tighe took a moment to compose himself, and then entered the inner office.

Commander Fisher, a middle-aged man with a jovial appearance, rose from behind his desk and came to stand in front of it. “Crewman Tighe, I presume. Have a seat.”

“Yes, sir,” Tighe said, taking the proffered chair. “I appreciate the opportunity to meet with you, sir. I wanted to talk to you about my upcoming assignment—”

Fisher held up one hand. “Now, now, there’s no need to thank me.” 

“Thank you, sir?” Tighe said, confused.

“You were assigned to the security detail on Starbase Four, right?” Fisher beamed. “It’s a plum assignment, no doubt about that, and I suppose you heard that I personally earmarked you for this spot.” Fisher paused. “Starfleet is all about the best and the brightest, and every now and then we do a little bit extra to help those who deserve it advance their careers. Your record in both basic and advanced training has been exemplary, Tighe.”

Tighe opened his mouth, but the commander wasn’t finished yet. “Now, I know you’re probably thinking your opportunities for _advancement_ may be slower at first than in a potential combat spot, but on Starbase Four you’ll have the chance to meet a lot of people and build your network, which will be a bigger help to you in the future.”

The truth dawned on Tighe. _Commander Fisher thought he was doing him a favor_. Tighe bit back his intended words. The conversation was clearly over, and he needed to resign himself to the post he’d been assigned to. “Yes, sir, I appreciate your efforts on my behalf,” he said somewhat lamely.

“Think nothing of it,” Fisher said cheerfully with another wave of his hand. “Now, I’m sure you’ve got a lot to do before the ceremony this evening, so I’ll let you get to it.”

Responding to the dismissal, Tighe rose and left the room, striving to keep his disappointment from showing.

***  
At the commencement, Tighe stoically endured a multitude of speeches by various Starfleet brass. Now he stood with the other crewmen for the swearing in ceremony that made them “official” members of Starfleet. In addition, all of them were promoted to the rank of Crewman Second Class, signified by another metal bar added to their rank pins. 

Commodore Blanc cleared his throat. “Crewmen, repeat after me. 

_“I do solemnly swear or affirm that I will support and defend the Charter of the United Federation of Planets against all enemies, foreign and domestic.”_

Tighe repeated the words, but his thoughts were far away, on board a ship skimming among the stars.

Blanc continued. _“That I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same.”_

Tighe still couldn’t quite take it the reality of his upcoming post, but he had no choice. He would be spending the next two years on Starbase Four; only after this initial tour of duty could he request reassignment. His chances of securing a spot on a starship would be much better then, but he’d been under the impression he’d been in a good position for that _now_.

What stung the most was that they hadn’t even asked him. Or rather, they’d asked him what he’d wanted but had then blithely ignored it, instead assuming they knew what was best for him. It made him feel powerless – a feeling he was well acquainted with in his past, and he’d sworn to himself that he’d never feel that way again.

_"That I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter.”_

Commodore Blanc’s gaze swept the crowd. “As you embark on your new assignments, remember that you are in good company as you set off on the next step of your Starfleet careers. You are the latest in a long line of men and women to boldly go forth, to seek out new life and civilizations, to boldly go where no one has gone before.” He paused. “Dismissed.”

A chorus of cheers swept the crowd and the crewmen broke ranks. Lots of family members were in attendance, as this was also a last chance to see their loved ones; there wasn’t much of a gap before their tours of duty began. Tighe was one of the few who didn’t have anyone there. He looked around the quad, at all the happy groups of people, and then headed back to the barracks. 

It didn’t take him long to pack his few belongings. Within a few hours, he was on an official Starfleet transport which carried him to Starbase Four.


	6. Chapter 6

Tighe walked down the main concourse, his phaser a comfortable weight against his right hip. He skillfully threaded his way through the groups of people milling around the shops, bars and restaurants that made up the station’s commercial hub, nodding at familiar faces he passed.

Five months into his tour of duty on Starbase Four, he could say that this post was both as good as he’d hoped and as bad as he’d feared. There was a lot of mindless guard duty, inventory of ship cargoes that came in, patrolling, and of course, breaking up bar fights. Occasionally, he had the opportunity to pilot a shuttle as part of the escort for some visiting dignitary, but those were exceptions rather than the rule. 

On the plus side, his horizons had definitely expanded, and he’d discovered a wider world out there than he’d been unaware of until now. To his surprise, he didn’t miss being planetside. He didn’t hunger for fresh air or wide-open expanses. He enjoyed looking out at the stars, though he was envious of the never-ending stream of visitors who passed through the station and actually went out into deep space. He wanted to explore some strange new worlds of his own. 

He ducked his head as he entered the Flamingo, the station’s main bar, and paused to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim light. At this time of day, the Flamingo was practically deserted. There was a relatively subdued game of Aldarian poker going on in the far corner, and only two or three individuals drinking at the bar.

“Ah, Mr. Tighe,” said the Orion proprietor, putting down the towel he was using to wipe the glasses. His colorful tunic strained across his ample belly and his smile was broad across his plump face. “How delightful to see you in my humble establishment. Might I offer you a drink?”

Tighe leaned casually against the bar. “Thanks, Filkin, but I’m on duty at the moment.”

“Then perhaps some food?” Filkin inquired solicitously. “I’m sure we can whip up something for you to eat if you’re hungry.”

“Actually, Filkin, you _do_ have something that I want. Information.”

“And what makes you think I could possibly know anything about whatever nasty little piece your department is currently investigating?” Filkin said, resuming his cleaning. “That is, assuming that’s what you want. On the other hand, if you want to know the name and contact information of my newest Dabo girl, I’d be happy to--”

“Cut the crap, Filkin,” Tighe said pleasantly. “You were right the first time. We know all about the counterfeit Argellian gem smuggling operation you’ve been running out of your backroom for the past month.”

Filkin laid his hand against his heart and assumed an indignant expression. “Crewman Tighe! Are you accusing me of wrongdoing?”

Tighe refused to take the bait. “We know you’re not the main player, but you _are_ providing the real perpetrator with a location to conduct his business, as well as an opportunity to launder the profits from this little venture. One of these days we’re going to catch Gelmand red-handed, and so you might want to distance yourself from your business partner." He paused meaningfully. "Consider this some friendly advice.”

“You have a suspicious nature, Tighe,” Filkin said huffily. 

“I’ll take that as compliment,” Tighe said as he turned to leave. 

“It wasn’t meant as one!” Filkin called out after him. 

Tighe chuckled under his breath as he made his way to the exit. He was about to leave when a tall blonde woman intercepted his path. 

“Justin!” she squealed. “Fancy seeing you here! I’ve missed you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a long and sensual kiss. 

“Hello, Marta,” he said, disentangling himself. “How are you?” 

“I’m fine,” Marta said. “I’m looking forward to seeing you later this evening.” 

“About that,” Tighe said, his tone regretful. “I’m afraid something has come up and I won’t be able to make it.” 

“That’s the second time this week,” Marta said, the corners of her mouth going down. “I’m beginning to wonder if you have another girl on the side.” 

Tighe gave her a charming smile. “Nothing like that, I promise.” There were actually _three_ other women, and so far, he’d been successful at keeping them apart. “It’s just business,” he assured her, and sauntered out. 

*** 

“How long is this going to take?” Tighe asked as he sat on the diagnostic biobed, his shirt off. 

Oh, not too long,” said Dr. Mirax as he ran the mediwand over Tighe’s bare chest. Tighe bit back the reply that the doctor had been saying the same thing for the past hour, and there seemed to be no end in sight. “It’s just a routine physical, after all.” The doctor put down the mediwand and picked up another instrument. “Even though, despite regulations, you somehow ‘forgot’ to do this when you initially came aboard the station and reported for duty. Really, it shouldn’t have taken so long until you finally ‘remembered’.” 

“I’m a busy man,” Tighe said, not revealing that his primary purpose in visiting the infirmary had been to receive a booster for his contraceptive shot. 

“I know, I know, you’ve got important business to attend to!” Mirax said. “But this is important, too.” 

Tighe resigned himself to the ordeal and lay down on the diagnostic bed when ordered to. Even though he was only 17, he looked like he was much older, thanks to his height and his well-muscled physique. But the doctor didn't seem to notice any discrepancy in his records. 

Mirax was a Denobulan, and true to the stereotype, was extremely talkative. He proceeded to review Tighe’s complete medical history. “Let’s see – you had a broken arm as a young boy – right or left?” 

“It was my left arm,” Tighe said quietly. 

“Childhood illnesses, none recorded other than Rigellian flu, hmph, just a year ago? I see your vaccinations, at least, are up to date.” 

Tighe permitted himself a small smile. 

“Evidence of at least three concussions – goodness, you must have been very adventurous as a young boy to sustain so many, not to mention the presence of multiple scars on your back, arms and legs….Well, I can remove those for you in a jiffy.” Mirax picked up a dermal regenerator but Tighe’s hand closed over his wrist. 

“No,” Tighe said quietly. “Leave the scars.” 

“You don’t want me to remove them?” Mirax asked, puzzled. “But they’re so unsightly! There’s no reason to keep--” 

“I said to leave them,” Tighe repeated. They were the souvenirs of the numerous beatings he’d sustained during his childhood. He couldn’t really articulate _why_ he wanted to hold onto them, other than a vague sense that they were proof he was a survivor. No matter what his future held, he knew that he could face it. After all, hadn’t he survived much worse growing up? 

“All right, then,” Mirax said, putting down the dermal regenerator and turning toward the console on the side. “Let’s talk about your sleeping and eating habits.” 

Tighe rolled his eyes but complied. “I get around 4 hours of sleep a night.” 

“And you find that sufficient for your needs?” 

“Yes,” Tighe said. 

“Most adult Humans require a minimum of 6 to 8 hours,” Mirax pointed out. “What’s your daily calorie intake?” 

"Around 2200 per day, sometimes a bit higher.” 

“Regular exercise?” 

“Yes.” Tighe paused. “Is there a problem with my health, Doctor?” 

“No, no, all the blood chemistry readings are in the normal ranges,” Mirax assured him. “Glucose, cholesterol, triglycerides, all perfectly fine.” 

“That’s good,” Tighe said. He was about to ask again if he was free to go, but Mirax clearly wasn’t finished yet. 

“Well, you can thank your Illyrian genes for your remarkable stamina and reduced need for sleep,” Mirax said brightly as he entered some data in his console. “Personally, I find it quite interesting how the Illyrians got around the Federation ban on genetic engineering with their highly constricted breeding program.” 

"What are you talking about?” Tighe said, confused by the turn the conversation had taken. “I’m Human, not Illyrian.” 

“Actually, you’re both - your genome displays a number of markers consistent with an Illyrian heritage,” Mirax said. He touched a control and then moved his screen so Tighe could see. “There they are.” 

Tighe didn’t understand the symbols that comprised the readout, but he looked at the brightly colored bands displayed, and in particular the area the doctor was pointing at. “Is this something new?” he asked. 

Mirax chuckled. “I certainly didn’t make this discovery. The fact that you're part Ilyrian has been noted in your Starfleet medical profile from the beginning.” 

“I guess no one bothered to tell me about it,” Tighe said shortly. Suddenly, he remembered the doctor in basic training warning him that Rigellian flu meant he wouldn’t have his usual stamina, despite his genetic heritage. Was this what the doctor had been referring to? 

“They probably assumed you knew,” Mirax pointed out. “The number of inherited genes implies a close relationship; one of your parents must be Ilyrian.” 

“My mother is Human,” Tighe said slowly. “I never knew my father; he died before I was born, and my mother never talked much about him.” 

“Well, there you go,” Mirax said breezily. He administered the booster that Tighe had originally come in for, and then finally allowed him to leave the infirmary. 

Tighe headed back to his quarters. Once inside, he said, “Computer, display information on Illyria – history, physiology, prominence in Federation events, whatever you’ve got.” 

An hour or two later, his evening “appointment” forgotten, Tighe leaned back in his chair, taking in all that he’d learned. He considered asking his mother once more about his biological father, but decided against it. As time passed, he felt less and less connected to his former life on Klatus Prime, though he still kept in touch with Serena and Kallie. They still communicated by text messages mostly, though the previous month he’d splurged and set up a video call for Kallie’s eighth birthday. 

“Justin! It’s so great to finally _see_ you!” Kallie had exclaimed. She proudly showed off the baby on her lap. “This is James.” 

“Hello, James,” Tighe said, smiling. The boy, nearly a year old, looked just like the few holopics he’d been sent earlier. Truth be told, Tighe didn’t feel much of an emotional bond with James, though he did strongly resemble Kallie at that age. Both Serena and Kallie had mentioned from time to time that the baby was often sick, but to Tighe's untrained eye he appeared fine. “How are you?” 

Kallie giggled. “He can’t talk yet, Justin. James, can you wave at Justin?” James, however, wriggled to get down from Kallie’s arms, not interested in interacting with the stranger who was his older brother. 

“He’s a _very_ good boy, even though Da complains he makes too much noise sometimes.” Kallie put James down on the floor where he promptly picked up a large block and began chewing on one corner. “He doesn’t like being held much anymore, unless he’s tired. He’d rather crawl around and explore.” 

Tighe nodded and tried to recall if Kallie had been like that as well. “So, how does it feel to be a whole year older?” 

“It’s great,” Kallie said and then her smile faded. “When are you going to come home to visit, Justin?” 

It was a longstanding refrain with her. On previous occasions, Tighe had mentioned the limited amount of leave he had available and other practical realities such as the number of days it would take to journey to Klatus Prime. This time, however, he said, “Why don’t you come visit _me_?” 

“On Starbase Four? Really?” she exclaimed. 

“Sure, why not? You and Mama both.” 

“And James,” Kallie reminded him. 

“Of course, James, too. You can all come here,” Tighe said. 

“That would be so great!” Kallie turned as her mother entered the room. “Mama, did you hear what Justin just said?” 

“I did,” Serena said. “Kallie, honey, it’s time for James to have a bath and get ready for bed. Would you mind doing it, so I can talk to Justin?” 

“Sure thing, Mama!” Kallie said. “Justin, thank you so much for calling for my birthday. I can’t wait to see you! Love you!” 

“I love you, too, Kallie,” Tighe said, watching her pick up the baby and leave. 

As soon as Kalllie was out of the room, Serena turned toward her older son. “You shouldn’t get her hopes up for something unrealistic, Justin.” 

“Why is it unrealistic?” he said, noting the dark shadows under her eyes; she didn’t look well. “What will it take for you to leave?” he asked her point blank. “Is it because you’re afraid of what Clem will do--” 

“Justin, stop,” she said, holding up her hand for emphasis. “I know you mean well, but we’ve been through this before. I can’t leave, not yet. Please try to respect that. One day, perhaps, when James is older…” 

Tighe had bit back his frustration, but didn’t press her. Instead, they had talked about other mundane things and eventually, when they ran out of safe topics to discuss, they ended the call. 

Afterward, he’d thought long and hard about persuading Serena to pick up and join him – not just for a visit, but permanently. He’d considered how she and Kallie would feel about living on the station, and how he would feel about having his mother and sister so close by. He would certainly feel better when he would be able to look out for them, see for himself that they were safe and sound, but there was no denying life on a starbase was so different than the life they currently knew. With a sigh, he’d shelved the idea – for now. Maybe in another year or two, Serena would reconsider her decision to stay on Klatus Prime. 

Now, Tighe checked the chrono and debated if he would seek out Marta after all. Or maybe Rhiannon, the pretty red-haired ensign in Ops… Despite his only family living so far away, Tighe was not exactly lonely. He had a number of friends on the station, and he never wanted for feminine company. His enjoyment of the women was purely physical, though one or two of his conquests occasionally showed signs of falling for him. The transient nature of life on a starbase worked in his favor, and he quickly broke things off whenever there was a hint that one of his women was getting too serious. 

All in all, life was pretty good at present, though he never ceased looking at the stars. 


	7. Chapter 7

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Tighe asked, as he entered the Security office.

Commander Levitt looked up and indicated the chair in front of his desk. “Yes, have a seat, Tighe.” His gaze went back to his monitor as he continued. “Beginning tomorrow, Starbase Four is hosting the next round of the Xindi peace talks. Several Federation ambassadors will be arriving to participate in the negotiations, and so we need to tighten our security protocols.”

“More than usual, Commander?” Tighe asked, mildly surprised. After all, this wasn’t the first time they’d hosted delicate negotiations.

“Yes,” Levitt said shortly. “Apparently, there’s some history involving the Betazoid ambassador. She’s received a number of death threats, and our sources indicate the assassins may try to strike when she’s on board the station. In addition to the personal motivation, this would have the added ‘benefit’ of disrupting the peace talks.”

Tighe took a moment or two to digest this. He was aware that Levitt wasn’t telling him everything, not by a long shot. “What is my role in all this, Commander?” he asked.

“I’m assigning you to the Ambassador’s personal security detail. Other than when she’s in the conference room, you’ll be accompanying her everywhere on the station, providing round the clock security.”

“Round the clock, sir?” Tighe couldn’t help asking. Surely, he wouldn’t be expected to be on duty 24/7.

As if realizing how it had sounded, Levitt quickly amended his statement. “You and the rest of the security detail, of course. A pair of security guards will accompany her to and from the conference room each day and be posted outside her quarters at night.” He forced a smile. “I’ve heard you’ve been complaining that you were bored with breaking up fights and checking cargo manifests,” Levitt said. “Consider this a welcome diversion.”

“Yes, sir,” Tighe said though he was still puzzled why he, one of the most junior members of the security team, would receive such a plum assignment. Instead of asking, however, he rose to his feet at Levitt’s nod of dismissal. “When is the Ambassador due to arrive?”

“At 1900 hours,” Levitt said. Not quite meeting Tighe’s gaze, he added, “See to it that you serve her well.”

***  
A day later, Tighe was no longer wondering how he’d gotten so lucky. Instead he was wondering how he’d managed to get on Commander Levitt’s bad side. 

It was evening, and he and Terrence, a Human female security guard, picked up the Ambassador outside the conference room and escorted her back to her cabin. The Ambassador, a tall attractive dark-haired woman who appeared to be in her mid to late 40s, was talking on her private comm the whole way, to her secretary back home it sounded like, detailing various things that needed to be done—immediately, if not sooner, if you went by the Ambassador’s manner. Tighe would’ve felt guilty for eavesdropping on the Ambassador’s conversation if the woman hadn’t been speaking so loudly; he was willing to bet that she could be heard one station level over. The Ambassador was also given to dramatic pauses while clutching her heavy crystal necklace; her long velvet gown, ornate hairstyle, and heavily applied makeup, clearly marked her as someone who enjoyed making a statement.

In the fifteen minutes it took to reach her quarters, the Ambassador scarcely glanced at the security detail, let alone deigned to address them until just before they got to her door. The Ambassador flared out her floor length skirt, preparatory to entering, but Terrence adroitly stepped in front of her. “Please wait a moment, Ambassador.”

“What is the meaning of this delay?” the Ambassador said, clearly put out.

“I need to perform a sensor sweep first,” Terrence said firmly as she entered the room. Holding her tricorder aloft, she slowly turned in a full circle, and then studied the readings. “All clear, Madam Ambassador,” she said. “You can go in now.”

“It’s about time,” the Ambassador said huffily.

“Have a good evening,” Tighe added pleasantly.

The Ambassador stopped, favored him with a longer look and then smiled before going inside. 

Tighe exhaled as he took his position on the opposite side of the doorway from Terrence. “So, for the next six hours, we’re just going to stand outside here. Doesn’t sound particularly challenging to me.” 

“Yeah,” said Terrence, “But that’s why they pay us the big bucks.”

“Huh?” said Tighe.

“It’s an old Earth expression,” Terrence explained. “It means that’s how they show their appreciation to us, for doing jobs like these.”

“But what are ‘bucks’?” Tighe asked, still puzzled.

Terrence shrugged. “No idea.”

Although it was frowned on while they were on duty, Tighe tapped his comm badge. “Computer, what are 'bucks'?”

 _“The males of several hooved, herbivore species,”_ came the response.

Tighe looked over at Terrence. “That’s weird.”

Terrence shrugged again.

Just then they heard a voice calling from the other side of the door. “Hello, are you out there?”

“Yes, ma’am, do you need something?” Terrence responded.

“Yes,” said the Ambassador. “I’d like to request Mr. Tighe to please come inside.” 

Tighe exchanged a look with Terrence. “Do you need something?” he asked.

“Yes,” the Ambassador said patiently, “I already said I need you to come in.” 

The Ambassador had retreated a few steps away from the door when Tighe entered but was clearly waiting for him. her arms folded across her chest.

“Is something wrong?” Tighe asked. As far as he could see, everything inside looked in order. “All right, then, I’ll return to my post--”

“If you’re supposed to protect me,” she countered, “What better way to do so than to be inside the cabin where I am?” 

Tighe’s mouth tightened. “The earlier sensor sweep showed nothing,” he reminded her. “Did you see anything suspicious, or that made you uneasy?”

“That depends on what you mean by suspicious,” the Ambassador said vaguely. “But I can tell you that something just doesn’t feel right.” 

Tighe performed a cursory physical inspection of the outer living area. As expected, he found nothing. 

“Did you check the other room, specifically, in the closet and under the bed?” 

Tighe gave the Ambassador a long look and strove to keep his voice level. “Did you hear anything that led you to believe there is something or someone there?”

The Ambassador smiled and gave a preemptory wave of her hand. “I don’t mean to tell you how to do your job, of course, but those strike me as likely hiding spots if an intruder _did_ get in.” 

Realizing he needed to humor her, Tighe pulled out his tricorder and did an additional sensor sweep which came up clean. He could have sworn the Ambassador looked disappointed when he reported the results. Tighe cleared his throat. “As there is nothing more for me to do, I’ll go back outside.”

“On the contrary,” the Ambassador said, “I _do_ have something you can do for me.” She was still wearing her low-cut heavy gown that showed a lot of cleavage. Tighe couldn’t help noticing just how low the neckline was and how the gown perfectly set off her figure, even though she was older than his usual conquests and had dark hair and eyes. His preference usually ran to blondes or redheads, and women a lot closer to his own age. Still, those magnificent breasts…as he watched, she turned her back to him. “Could you please unzip me?” she asked, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her to say. “The zipper is caught, and I can’t get it down myself.”

He obligingly opened the zipper for her, and she turned around and stepped out of the dress which had pooled around her ankles. She was completely naked underneath except for her high heeled shoes. 

The temperature in the cabin seemed too high; Tighe felt sweat begin to bead his brow. With a calm he didn’t feel, Tighe said, "Mrs. Troi, are you trying to seduce me?" 

“My name is Lwaxana,” she reproved him and added wryly, “And apparently I’m not doing a good a job of it if you have to ask.” 

He wasn’t the type to turn down such a blatant invitation. He moved closer to her and kissed her, then moved down the side of her neck. He took one nipple in his mouth and sucked, then the other. He moved his hands down, exploring, and knelt before her, stroking her belly and her thighs, and the warm, wet folds where her legs met. Tighe had had plenty of sexual encounters since he’d been stationed on Starbase Four and he prided himself on his lovemaking abilities. Now, as he concentrated on pleasuring her, he fancied he heard her voice inside his head, telling him what she wanted, and he was only too happy to oblige. Soon he lifted her in his arms and carried her into the bedroom.

Afterward, he lay still, enjoying the post-conjugal state. He felt totally relaxed. Her hands moved slowly in smooth circular patterns down his back, pausing as they encountered his scars. Her eyebrows rose questioningly, but she didn’t ask.

“That was amazing,” he said finally. “Just incredible.”

She smiled. “The feeling is mutual, my dear, beautiful boy.” 

Tighe smiled and stretched. He hadn’t felt this good in a long time. Except for the faint stirrings of hunger in his belly – the quick sandwich he’d consumed on his earlier break hadn’t been nearly enough to sustain him, particularly when he expended as much energy as he had just now. But he could wait to eat until he went off duty.

“You can help yourself to my replicator if you don’t want to wait till your shift is over,” Lwaxana said out loud.

“Excuse me?” Tighe said, as he turned to look at her.

“I said, if you’re too hungry to wait till your shift is over, you can get something to eat from my replicator. Heavens know, I don’t want you collapsing from hunger,” she said with a laugh.

“I didn’t say anything about being hungry, I just thought it…” he broke off at a sudden realization. He scrambled to a sitting position and gave her a hard look. “Can you - are you reading my thoughts?” He couldn’t help but recoil at the invasion of his privacy. 

Lwaxana laid a placating hand on his arm. “I wasn’t actively trying to read them, just sensing what was on the surface, and really only to facilitate our--” she stopped. “I swear, I haven’t and won’t invade your privacy.”

Tighe jerked back involuntarily. “How can you say that? You’ve been reading my mind this entire time!” He got out of the bed and picked up his briefs, then looked around for his pants.

Lwaxana got out of bed as well. “My dear, I am so sorry…I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!” She seemed genuinely sincere, even contrite. “Surely you knew…I’m Betazoid, everyone knows we’re telepaths.” She stepped over to him and tried to pull his briefs out of his hands. “I don’t mean you any harm. I thought you knew what to expect.” 

He let her take them from him. “Aren’t you supposed to ask permission first?”

“You didn’t seem to object during sex,” she noted, the corners of her mouth turning up.

He was about to retort when he realized the futility of trying to deny the truth of what she said, let alone hide that this was the first time he’d been with a non-Human partner. “You still could have warned me,” he said at last, somewhat lamely.

She smiled and moved closer to him. “As good as it was,” she said softly, “it can be even better when you’re truly sharing thoughts while making love.” 

Her hands moved down his chest and abdomen, and then she dropped to her knees and took him in her mouth. He had already started to calm down, and now he became agitated in a different way. It _had_ been mind-blowing sex, and he was suddenly eager to repeat the experience.

_“I would never hurt you or take advantage of you in any way by what I see inside.”_

Hearing clearly formed words in his mind wasn’t as jarring as he expected. “I guess you aren’t really interested in what is going on inside my head,” he said, his breathing harsh as he gave himself up to her ministrations.

 _“Oh yes,”_ she agreed, her tongue and mouth and hands never pausing for a second.

As he came, he couldn’t help thinking that telepathy certainly had its advantages. 

When Tighe exited the Ambassador’s cabin two hours later, Terrence glanced at him curiously. “Everything OK in there? You were inside an awfully long time.”

“Yeah,” Tighe said, not meeting her gaze. “She wanted me to keep her company for a while.”

Terrence’s lips tightened almost imperceptibly but she didn’t ask any further questions.

The pattern repeated itself the next two nights: Tighe and Terrence escorted the Ambassador to her quarters, and Tighe went in and spent an hour or so with her.

On the third day, a routine sweep of the conference room before the day’s proceedings began revealed the presence of an incendiary device, that if detonated, would have blown a hole in the outer hull of the station as well as killed everyone within a blast perimeter of two decks. One of the Xindi underlings was almost immediately under suspicion – Tighe wondered if the Ambassador’s telepathic skills helped lead them to the culprit – and the peace conference was rapidly concluded.

That evening, instead of escorting the Ambassador to her quarters, Tighe – at her request – accompanied her to the docking port where the shuttle waited to take her back to Betazed.

Lwaxana paused outside the airlock. “Thank you, Justin. I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed meeting you, and the time we spent together.” He opened his mouth to respond, but she wasn’t finished yet. “Since my husband’s death eight years ago, I’ve only rarely had the opportunity to be intimate with someone, and never on the homeworld.” An image of a man with olive skin and dark eyes rose in Tighe’s mind, along with a young girl who closely resembled him. To his surprise, Lwaxana laughed. “You’re the same age as my daughter, so I suppose I could be called a cradle robber, but it doesn’t matter, as you are certainly man enough for me – or any woman.”

Tighe realized that of course the Ambassador was aware of his true age – 18 – though he’d been passing as older. He shifted his feet, uncomfortable. It was one thing for her to read his mind in bed, but another to casually do so during a conversation.

Lwaxana nodded, as if coming to a decision. “Forgive me, Justin, but you _are_ projecting rather loudly.” Suddenly, Tighe could see what she was seeing – images of his brutal childhood and adolescence, how he’d enlisted in Starfleet to better his lot but had become discouraged at his apparent stagnation. She brushed her hand lightly against his cheek. “My dear, beautiful boy – don’t lower your sights. Keep aiming high and do what you need to do fulfill your ambitions.” 

“I don't have the right education to go where I want to go, be what I want to be," Tighe said, feeling a pang of regret. It surprised him, as he thought he’d resigned himself to his fate. “Without that, it’s impossible.”

“There’s nothing to stop you from studying and making up for lost time now,” she countered.

The airlock opened. A uniformed Betzoid officer stepped out and said, respectfully, “Ambassador Troi, we are ready whenever you are.”

“Give me two more minutes, Rial,” she said. When they were alone again, she put her hands on Tighe’s shoulders and lifted her face to his. “Goodbye, Justin.”

He watched as she entered the airlock and waited till it closed behind her. Then he turned on his heel and made his way back to the station’s habitat area.

Later that night, back in his quarters, he reviewed the events of the day, in particular the Ambassador’s parting words. She was right, he realized. There _was_ nothing preventing him from studying now. He certainly had the time, and it would be more of an intellectual challenge than anything he’d experienced for a long time. 

Where to start? He still remembered the engineering aptitude exam he took at the end of basic training, and decided to figure out the answers to all the problems. In no particular order, he wrote them out on a PADD, and read the first problem out loud: “A dilithium conversion unit running 88 megaJoules of power…” 

After floundering around for a bit searching unfamiliar terms on the computer, Tighe decided he needed a more systematic approach. Soon he had downloaded a basic volume of elementary warp dynamics, but quickly realized he needed to first fill in a gap in basic physics, which in turn led to filling an existing deficiency in mathematics. As the weeks went by and he painfully worked his way through all 10 problems on the aptitude exam, he increasingly found his field of study branching out to other disciplines. He was painfully conscious of just how many further gaps he had to fill - so many that he sometimes despaired of ever catching up - but was determined to keep at it.


	8. Chapter 8

_Six months later_

Tighe ran through the shuttle pre-flight check, enjoying this break from his usual duties. He glanced curiously at Commodore Darius, who was seated next to him in the co-pilot seat. That in itself was a rarity; in Tighe’s experience, the dignitaries he transported to or from the station opted to sit in the back of the main cabin and spent most of the flight time engaged in work. But Darius, a tall spare man with salt and pepper hair and beard, had chosen to sit at the front of the shuttle. Tighe was already curious about the new commander of Starbase Four; the scuttlebutt around the station was that Darius had had a long career as a starship captain, and he’d recently sustained severe injuries in combat that had led him to resign from field duty. 

“Shuttle _Andromeda_ to Planetary Flight Control,” Tighe said. “Request permission to launch.”

“Permission to launch granted, _Andromeda_ ,” came the response. “You’re cleared to go.”

Tighe entered the commands and the shuttle lifted off. As soon as they cleared the atmosphere, he said, “Proceeding at one quarter impulse. When we are from enough from the planetary mass, we’ll go to warp 2.” He glanced at his passenger. “We should arrive at the starbase in just over four hours, sir. Any questions?”

Darius smiled. “Yes, Crewman, what’s your name?”

“My name, sir?” Tighe repeated in surprise. Most officers wouldn’t bother learning the names of the lowly crewman assigned to pilot them from one place to another. He hastily returned his gaze to the controls in front of him. “Crewman Second Class Justin Tighe. I’m a member of the security team.”

Darius nodded. “How long have you been stationed at Starbase Four?”

“Almost two years, sir.”

“Where were you stationed before that?”

“This is my first posting, sir. I graduated from the Starfleet Technical Services Academy in ’42,” Tighe said. He took another quick look at the Commodore, wondering why he was asking all these personal questions.

Darius smiled again. “At ease, Crewman, this isn’t an interrogation,” he said reassuringly. “I was just wondering if our paths had crossed previously, as you look very familiar.” He turned his chair, so he was fully facing the pilot’s seat. “Is your father, or possibly your uncle, in Starfleet?”

“Not that I’m aware of, sir. My father died when I was young.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Darius said, his tone full of sympathy. “Where are you from?”

“Klatus Prime,” Tighe answered and waited for the inevitable response. Whenever he mentioned where he was from, either the questioner had never heard of it, or had and felt compelled to make some derogatory comment about it being a backwater planet. He was betting that the Commodore fell in the first category.

But Darius surprised him on both counts. “Klatus Prime? I was there once, about nine years ago. Mining colony, isn’t it?”

“A _failed_ mining colony,” Tighe replied automatically before he caught himself. “Uh, yes, sir.” He found himself adding, “I worked in the mines for a couple of years before joining Starfleet.”

“Not an easy life there,” Darius said thoughtfully. “I remember the streets were run-down, buildings decrepit and safety standards in the mines were practically non-existent. Everyone I saw looked hungry and beaten down. In fact, one of the people I encountered was a little boy, a ragged little street urchin, who tried to lift my moneybag--”

“And instead of beating him, or reporting him to the authorities, you bought him dinner,” Tighe broke in.

“Yes…how did you know that?” Darius’s gray eyes rested on Tighe’s face, appeared to scrutinize him more closely. He drew in a sharp intake of breath. “Was that you?”

“Yes,” Tighe said, staring at his long-ago benefactor in wonder. “That was me.”

“But you must have been only around 8 or 9 years old at the time...” Darius started to say, then obviously abandoned that train of thought. His eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’m very glad that things worked out all right for you, Justin.”

“I never knew your name, sir,” Tighe said, swallowing. “But in a way, you’re responsible for my joining Starfleet.” He fell silent for a moment, remembering how impressed he’d been when Darius and the other Starfleet officer had been caught up in the blue transporter beam and vanished from the planet surface, how he’d wished he could just leave like that, too. It was certainly a remarkable coincidence that he would meet Darius again after all these years. “What about the security officer who accompanied you to Klatus Prime?” Justin asked, suddenly. He flushed as he recalled his words. _They let gorillas like that become ‘Fleeters?_

Darius chuckled, obviously remembering as well. “McKenzie is now a divisional commander of Starfleet Security.” His eyes dancing, he added, “If you like, I’ll be happy to send him your regards.”

Tighe grinned. “Yes, sir, and tell him I decided to follow in his footsteps.”

That conversation in the shuttle turned out to the beginning of a cordial relationship between Darius and Tighe. Darius rapidly showed himself to be the type of commander who took an interest in the men and women serving under him and made a point of seeking Tighe out periodically and checking on how he was doing. For his part, Tighe was surprised and pleased to discover that he had gained a mentor.   
***

“Your tour of duty on Starbase Four is almost up,” Darius said as he handed Tighe a cup of coffee and then got one for himself. “What are your plans?”

They were sitting in Darius’s office, having one of their biweekly get togethers. Tighe appreciatively took a sip of his coffee. Thinking both about how fast his two-year commitment had passed and also about the possibility of getting his mother and sister to join him, he said, “I guess I’ll sign up for an extension of my current duty tour.”

Darius eyed him over the rim of his own cup. “Really?” he said. “I’m surprised to hear that, as I know you don’t find your current posting very challenging.” 

Thinking of his oft-repeated complaint about breaking up bar fights and checking cargo manifests, Tighe shrugged. “The duties of a security guard on a starbase are more varied than on a shipboard posting, or at least that’s what I’ve heard.”

Darius leaned forward. “But why confine yourself to security?”

Tighe looked at him in surprise. “I’m a security officer, what else could I do?”

“You don’t have to stay in security,” Darius said earnestly. “You can make something more of yourself, study whatever you want – at the Academy.”

Tighe’s surprise of a moment ago was nothing compared to the astonishment he felt now. “Starfleet Academy? But, sir, I’m already an enlisted crewman!” 

“You can apply to take the entrance exams to the Academy,” Darius said. “How old are you? I mean, your actual age, not what it says on your service record.”

“I’m almost 19,” Tighe said.

“Not that much older than the average first-year cadet,” Darius said emphatically. “And with the experience you’ve received already, you might be able to complete the course of studies in less time than the standard four-year program. Naturally, I would be glad to act as your sponsor.” He paused. “While it’s not common, it’s not unheard of for enlisted crew to decide to switch to officer track after a few years of service, or even for someone to switch to a different track entirely. I’ve known science officers who opted for command, for example. Didn’t you tell me once that you were interested in engineering?”

Tighe’s brain was working furiously trying to make sense of Darius’s words. “But how could I possibly get admitted to the Academy? I never finished school.”

“You told me you went back and tried to solve the problems on the engineering aptitude exam you took at the end of basic training – which shows that studying is not a foreign concept to you. And you’ve proven yourself to be a very hard worker,” Darius said firmly. “If you want it, go for it.”

“For starters, I’m not even sure of what I would need to study,” Tighe said, beginning to seriously consider the idea. He added, ruefully, “When I was working on those aptitude problems, for every bit of knowledge I picked up, I discovered another ten or so that I was missing.”

“There are standard prep courses you can take, so that shouldn’t be a problem,” Darius said and looked him full in the eye. “That is, if you want it badly enough. Do you?”

Tighe met his gaze unwaveringly. “Yes, sir, I do.”

True to his word, Darius helped him enroll in a preparatory course in basic math and physics, and suggested additional fields of study to branch out to. “You’re not just preparing for an entrance exam,” Darius pronounced, “but for your future.”

To Tighe’s surprise, some of what Darius thought he should study didn’t only involve academics. 

“Dancing? Etiquette?” Tighe protested. “Commodore, surely you can’t be serious!”

“You can scoff,” Darius said mildly, “but these are also important in presenting the picture of the officer and gentleman you want to be.” He smiled. “Someday you’ll thank me.”

“I’m already grateful for everything you’ve done for me--”

“Then shut up and dance,” Darius said. His lips quirked up in a smile. “At the very least, it’s bound to help improve your social life.”

As a result of Darius’s encouragement, Tighe re-upped for another year at Starbase Four and used that time to almost literally study his brains out. Every spare moment he wasn't on duty, he spent furiously trying to absorb as much content as possible. To his surprise, he was able to easily recall entire reams of material after having read it just once. Even with this obvious advantage, he still worked extremely hard, and eventually got to the point where he felt confident about filling out an application to the Academy with Darius as his sponsor. 

***  
“Crewman Tighe, can I have a word with you?”

Tighe paused his stride through the corridor and turned around. Commander Levitt, the head of station security, had emerged from his office and was beckoning him to enter. “Yes, sir,” he answered and followed the Commander inside. “Is there a problem?”

“Everything’s fine, Tighe, relax. I saw you passing by and thought I’d take the opportunity to find out what’s up with you,” Levitt said, his manner jovial. “Haven’t had a chance to talk to you lately since I’ve only seen you on duty. And speaking of which, I noticed you aren’t routinely taking double-shifts anymore. Not that it’s a requirement, of course,” he added hurriedly, “but others on the security team have really appreciated your frequent overtime, as you know we’re really understaffed for such a prominent installation.”

Tighe shrugged, unimpressed, as he’d heard this lament about not having enough personnel before. Not to mention that he’d certainly done more than his fair share. “Sorry, sir.”

“What’s keeping you so busy lately?” Levitt asked, confidentially. “Is it a woman?”

Uncomfortable at Levitt bringing up his personal life, Tighe answered, “No, sir, it’s not a woman who’s keeping me busy.” Almost shyly, he added, “I’m studying for the Starfleet Academy entrance exam.”

“ _Starfleet_ Academy entrance exam?” Levitt repeated in disbelief. “Tighe, you’re already an enlisted crewman.”

“It’s unusual but not unheard of for a crewman to attend the Academy and switch to the officer track,” Tighe answered, consciously parroting Darius.

Levitt waved his hand dismissively. “Yes, but…well, why would you want to do such a thing?”

Stung by Levitt’s obvious disapproval, Tighe said, “I’ve always wanted to be an engineer.”

That was clearly too much for Levitt. “Listen, Tighe, I’m going to do you a favor and tell you not to waste your time.” 

“You don’t think I’m capable?” Tighe said slowly, striving to keep his hands from clenching together. He belatedly added, “Sir.”

Levitt hastily switched tactics. “You’re an excellent security guard, Tighe, and may even move up to chief one day. But don’t get ahead of yourself, thinking you’re officer material. And as for switching disciplines…it’s a waste of time.”

Tighe’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “Commodore Darius doesn’t think so. And even if it, it’s my own time to waste.”

“Commodore Darius,” Levitt said condescendingly. “He’s a good man, don’t get me wrong. I heard he had a respectable career as a ship’s captain, but he doesn’t understand how things _really_ work in Starfleet. I wouldn’t put too much weight on his recommendation.” Perhaps realizing he had gone too far, Levitt hastily added, “Well, as you said it’s your time and you can certainly choose to spend it how you see fit.” He cleared his throat. “Uh, good luck. And if it doesn’t work out, well, you know you’ve always got a good position here.”

That night, Tighe redoubled his efforts at studying as a result of this conversation, adding Levitt to his mental list of those he would prove wrong.

With Darius as his sponsor, Tighe was invited to take the entrance exam. To his surprise, it was easier than he’d anticipated. His eidetic memory had proven to be a real advantage; in the course of his studies, he’d learned far more about the Illyrian people and he knew he could thank his heritage for this and other ‘gifts.’ When he’d hesitantly mentioned this to Darius, the Commodore had firmly reminded him that he’d also put in a lot of hard work, which was just as important a contributing factor to his success. “And I know you’re going to continue to do your very best,” Darius added. “No matter what your future holds.”

Tighe raised his chin. “Count on it, sir.”

When the results came in a few weeks later, Tighe was delighted to see he’d scored in the ninety-second percentile, well above the minimum required for admission. 

When his formal letter of acceptance to the Academy arrived, Darius insisted on throwing him a small party. All of his Starfleet friends were in attendance and even Commander Levitt stopped by long enough to congratulate him. Tighe’s satisfaction was complete. He couldn’t ever remember feeling so happy. _And this was just the beginning_ , he promised himself. Soon he’d be at the Academy and embarking on his dream to become an engineer. His star was in ascendance, and things could only keep getting better.

The night before Tighe was due to leave for Earth, he was surprised to receive a message that the Commodore wanted to see him in his office immediately. Tighe wondered what was up, as Darius had already said his goodbyes and told him that he’d miss him.

“Come in, Tighe,” Darius said, ushering him into his office. “Have a seat, son.”

Tighe instinctively knew that something was wrong. “What is it? What’s going on?”

“There’s a personal subspace message for you from Klatus Prime,” Darius said. He entered a few commands into his console, and then turned the monitor so it was facing Tighe. 

Puzzled, Tighe checked the sender and saw it was from an unfamiliar address. “It’s from the Starfleet Liaison Office,” Darius said gently.

Tighe opened the message. “We regret to inform you…” His heart seemed to plummet into his stomach as he continued to read. “My…my mother and sister were killed in a shuttle accident.” He sat there, stunned, barely able to take in the news. He thought of Serena as he’d last seen her – still beautiful, but weary, beaten down by her life circumstances. _This couldn’t be happening._ He gulped. “I last spoke to them a few weeks ago. They didn’t mention that they were planning to travel anywhere.” 

Darius squeezed his shoulder sympathetically. “I’m so sorry.”

Tighe reread the message, hoping against hope he’d gotten it wrong, but it was the same as before. _Serena and Kallie were dead._ “Kallie, my sister, was only nine years old,” he said. Images of Kallie flooded his mind. He remembered her as a baby, then as a toddler who would run to him in excitement when he came home in the evening. He still had each and every one of her letters, in which she’d written about her friends at school, her joy in learning, and of course, her love and pride in baby James…

Suddenly, he realized there was something missing.

“Wait, there’s no mention of a three-year-old boy,” he said, looking up from the monitor. “My baby brother – there’s no mention of him as either a victim or survivor of the accident! Why wasn’t he there?” His mind racing, Tighe went on, “My mother would never abandon James.” He swallowed almost convulsively. “I’ve got to go to Klatus Prime and find him, if he’s still alive.” He faltered. “The semester at the Academy is about to start, though. How can I--"

“Don’t worry about the Academy,” Darius said firmly. “Go home, find out the circumstances of the accident, and what happened to your brother.” 

Numbly, Tighe nodded. Two hours later, he was onboard a ship, heading back to the planet he’d once called home.


	9. Chapter 9

It had been three years since Tighe had left Klatus Prime. In the interim, he had changed but the planet had remained the same. As he walked through the corridors of the dilapidated space port in Siran City, he could scarcely believe that he had returned. He flashed his Starfleet credentials at the transporter center and soon materialized on the other side of the planet, in the streets of the capital city where he had grown up. He took a deep breath of air, and turned around slowly, taking it all in. The colony felt at once familiar and foreign. He absently smoothed back the collar of his leather jacket, feeling strange not to be in uniform, and ran his hand over his short, Starfleet-regulation hair. 

The Starfleet Liaison Office hadn’t been able to give him any additional information about the accident, just a confirmation of the dates and the shuttle passenger manifest. However, he’d searched the civilian records and came up with a local death notice for James Lemel, dated two weeks earlier. The cause of death was listed as meningitis. Tighe remembered that Serena and Kallie had mentioned that James was a sickly infant and toddler. He wondered why Serena didn’t seek medical care for him – it wasn’t a question of affordability as Tighe was still sending her money each month - but perhaps there was nothing the doctors could have done. Tighe briefly considered going to the cemetery to see if he could find the grave marker, but decided against it; he had no other reason to go there, as there had been nothing left of Serena and Kallie to bury. 

He walked through the once familiar streets, noting landmarks and reliving memories. He passed by the old warehouse that had been Rafe’s gang headquarters. He wondered in passing where Jack, Rafe’s lieutenant who had taken over after he was killed, and the others were now – and what had happened to Lucy. He felt a pang at just the thought of her and decided not to try to look her up. Their brief involvement had been years ago, and she had long ago moved on. Hell, she’d moved on from him while he was still there.

He passed by the tall, imposing building complex that had served as the mine’s headquarters. There was now a large sign tacked to the front gate, stating that these premises were closed and that the main operations had moved to the Siran City site. 

He steeled himself as he approached the dilapidated old apartment building where his family lived. He climbed the steps to the fourth floor – there was no elevator - and placed his hand on the rusted sensor panel next to the door. To his surprise, it still responded to his touch. The door swung open and he stepped inside. The apartment was empty; there was no one home. He glanced around to confirm this, and his gaze fell on the battered old crib which stood in the corner of the main room. 

Almost in a daze, he slowly walked through the rooms. There was nothing there that he really wanted, nothing that held any value for him. There was no sign of Fluffy the cat; he wondered if Kallie had taken it with her. He still didn’t understand why they were on that shuttle in the first place, or where they were going and why they hadn’t contacted him first. He wondered if maybe Serena had finally had enough, and she and Kallie were fleeing Clem, going to a safe place. But he would never know. From the dates, he realized Serena had never received his last letter about his acceptance to the Academy and his impending relocation to Earth. He deeply regretted never seeing them again, despite his promise to Kallie that he would come back some day. He reminded himself that he _hadn’t_ abandoned them – he’d called every few weeks, and sent money to them every month. He had done his best to help them out. But that was no comfort to him now.

In the bedroom, he rifled through the drawers of the old bureau and rummaged in the closet, seeking…something. He found an old box in the back of the closet, buried and not easily accessible. Opening it, he discovered some pieces of jewelry that he dimly remembered Serena wearing on special occasions. A few old necklaces, whose value was mostly sentimental, not monetary. Still, he guessed she’d hidden them so Clem wouldn’t trade them for drink. 

He dug deeper inside the box and pulled out a holocube. The image was a man in an old-style Starfleet uniform, of the kind worn twenty years ago. The man was dark haired and bore a striking resemblance to Tighe himself. The same piercing green eyes, sharply chiseled planes of the face, and the cleft chin. It was like looking into a mirror. There was no name attached or other identifier, but Tighe instinctively knew this was his biological father. He remembered the few details Serena had told him when he’d left Klatus Prime, and how relieved he’d been to learn that Clem wasn’t his father. He thought this man, whose face he was seeing now for the first time, was only marginally better than Clem, as he had abandoned Serena and his son. Tighe couldn’t accept that his father had never tried to contact Serena or at least find out what happened to her. Still, he put the holocube in his jacket pocket. He hesitated as he held the jewelry, trying to decide if it was worth keeping or not.

A sudden sound made him lift his head sharply, and he went back to the main room, his senses alert for trouble. The door swung open, and Clem Lemel stumbled inside. A strong reek of alcohol and vomit rose from him. From his unbalanced gait, it was obvious that he was more than slightly drunk. He squinted his eyes at Tighe.

“Whash goin’ on? Who’re you?” Clem asked in a slurred voice. 

“Where have you been, Clem?” Tighe asked in a low voice. “Where’s your family? Do you even know?”

Clem made his way unsteadily to the shabby old sofa, half-falling on it and ending up in a position that was more or less upright. “I been out, might have lost track of time a little.”

“Where’d you go, Clem? To a bar?”

Clem raised bleary eyes to him. “And what if I have? I been drowning my sorrows.” He exhaled loudly and it turned into a sob. “The baby’s dead.”

“What happened to James?” Tighe asked forcefully. “How did he die?”

“He just didn’t wake up one morning,” Clem mumbled. “It was an accident.”

“When? When did this happen?”

“Tuesday,” Clem said, and passed his grimy hands over his face.

Tighe did a swift calculation. “It was a lot longer than that, Clem. You’ve been on a bender for the last ten days!”

“I been drowning my sorrows,” Clem said again. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“What wasn’t your fault?” Tighe demanded. He got a sudden bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, remembering Clem’s propensity for violence. He had often been the target of Clem’s fists and belt when he was younger. Kallie had mentioned in one of her letters that Clem complained James was too noisy. Meningitis could cause fatal brain swelling, but from his early life on the streets, Tighe knew that such swelling could also be caused by injury. He took a step toward his stepfather. “Did you hurt him, Clem? Maybe shake him a little too hard when he was crying? Or worse? Is that why your wife and daughter left?”

“Whaddya mean, left?” Clem looked around wildly. “Where’s Serena? Where’d she go?” To himself he muttered, “When I see that whore again, I’ll show her she can’t just up and leave.”

“She’s not coming back,” Tighe said harshly. “She’s dead. She and Kallie are both dead.”

“You’re lying,” Clem said jerkily. “If they’re dead, it’s because you killed them!”

“They died in a shuttle accident,” Tighe said, his hands balling into fists. “If you weren’t so God-damned drunk, I’d show you the official coroner’s report.”

Sudden recognition flared in Clem’s eyes as he stared at Tighe. “You’re Serena’s bastard son, aren’t you? What are you doing here?” His gaze went to the necklaces in Tighe’s hand. “You come back to rob the place?”

Tighe laughed scornfully as he let the necklaces fall to the floor. “There’s nothing here to steal, nothing worth anything to show for all the pitiful years my mother was married to you.”

“You’re one to talk,” Clem said thickly and gestured wildly. “You ran off and abandoned the family, never came back, never cared about anyone except yourself.”

“You threw me out,” Tighe retorted. “And so, I left this miserable place and made something of myself. As far as abandoning my family, I sent my mother money on a regular basis, paying to keep a roof over her and her children’s heads, put food on the table. Which is more than I can say about you, you miserable old drunkard.”

“More of your lies,” Clem said, swaying as he managed to get to his feet. “I don’t believe anything you say. I knew you would never amount to anything, you’re just a rotten little bastard. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, they say.” He lurched forward and took a swing at Tighe’s face.

Tighe easily blocked Clem’s arm, and launched a blow of his own that landed squarely on Clem’s jaw. A surprised look crossed the older man’s face, and he crumpled to the floor.

Tighe advanced toward him and unloaded a vicious kick in the vicinity of Clem’s ribs. Clem moaned, but instead of moving Tighe to pity, he unleashed a torrent of blows and kicks at his fallen enemy and didn’t stop until he’d beaten him into unconsciousness.

Breathing heavily, Tighe moved away from him. He washed his hands at the sink and glanced down at his clothes, checking for any bloodstains. Fortunately, he didn’t see any. He felt no remorse for what he had done. He knew with every fiber of his being that Clem had been responsible for the baby’s death, and that was what had driven Serena to flee with Kallie.

 _Oh, Mama_ , Tighe thought in a convulsive wave of sadness. _Why couldn’t you have left sooner? Why didn’t you call me? I could have saved you, I could have saved all of you!_

He left the apartment and retraced his steps to the transporter center, half expecting to be picked up by the local constabulary for attempted murder. But no one came after him or made any attempt to apprehend him. 

He caught the next flight off planet and stared unseeingly out the viewport. The last time he’d left Klatus Prime, he’d thought it would be forever. This departure carried with it an even greater sense of finality. He had lost the last tie to his past, the last connection to home and family, to who he had once been.

One week later, he arrived in San Francisco, to take up the next part of his new life, as a cadet in Starfleet Academy.


End file.
